إن القصائد قد علمن بأنني
صنع اللسان بهن لا أتنحل
The poems have indeed come to know that I am
My poems surely know that I
a master of language through them, claiming no other’s work as mine.
Made language to serve me, without fuss or quibble.
وإذا ابتدأت عروض نسج ريض
جعلت تذل لما أريد وتسهل
When I embark upon a meter of tractable weaving,
And when I start spinning out those verse lines smooth,
I make it submit to what I desire and grow easy,
They grow tame and do just what I want, placid.
حتى تطاوعني ولو يرتاضها
غيري لحاول صعبة لا تقبل
until it obeys me—though, were another to try to train it,
Until they're perfectly obedient, even if
he would attempt it only to meet it hard and refusing to yield.
Someone else tried, they'd find them intractable.
Sol 5.6