يا لَيتَ شِعري وَلَيتَ الطَيرَ يُخبِرُني

هَل أَدخُلُ القُبَّةَ الخَضراءِ مِن أُدُمِ

Oh, would that my poetry could take wing and tell me

If I might enter the verdant dome made from red leather

أَسلَمَني أُسرَتي طُرّاً وَحاشِيَتي

حَتّى كَأَنّي مِن عادٍ وَمِن إِرَمِ

My family have left me bare, even my courtiers,

As if I were from 'Aad or from Iram of the columns