1. بِروحيَ الخالُ في ياقوتِ وَجنَتِهِ

    وَرِثتُ مِنهُ الضّنا فَرضاً بِلا عَبَثِ

    My soul would ransom the mole in the ruby of his cheek.

    From it I inherited wasting sickness, as a prescribed share, without jest.

  2. وَبَعدَ مَوتي بِهِ أَورَثتُهُ خلدي

    وَالخالُ في الشّرعِ لَم يورَث وَلَم يَرِثِ

    And after my death because of it, I bequeathed it my heart.

    Yet under sacred law, the mole—also a ‘maternal uncle’—is neither inherited from nor inherits.