لَقد هَجَرَتْ بيتي القطاط لنقده

وأصبحَ كلبي لا يرى صورةَ العَظْمِ

The cats have abandoned my home, finding no crumbs to feed on.

My dog no longer sees a trace of bone.

وكانونُ قدري مثلُ كانونَ باردٌ

وَملَّ عليهِ العنكبوتُ منَ البرمِ

The pot of my fate is like a cold December.

Over it the spider has spun its web.

وَقَد عَتّقت نارُ للوقودِ مغارِفي

ولاحَتْ زَبَا دُنيا دوارسَ كالرَّسمِ

The fireplace has freed its flames for lack of fuel.

On the horizon shine foxes' eyes like stars.

وأمسّتْ مناديلُ الخوانِ كأنّها

طيالسُنَا إذْ لم تُعَد من الزُّهمِ

Our napkins are like the shirts we wore

When simpler times spared us from worry.

وصارتْ قدوري وهي شهبُ من الطوى

كأنْ لم تَكُنْ يوماً تُعدُّ منَ الدُّهمِ

My pots, though scoured by washing away their blackness,

Are as if they'd never been cleaned of soot before.

وقد هَجَرتنا النَّملُ بعدَ تَوابلٍ

لَنا أُخِّرتْ عنّا وذلكَ من قَسْمي

The ants have deserted us, though we season our food well;

That part of their livelihood has been kept from us by fate.

وما كُنتُ ممَنْ بالحواظرِ قانعاً

وَلا آكلاً للجبنِ إلا على رغمي

Not for me to be satisfied with only courtyard and walls,

Or to eat cheese except when forced to settle thus.

سقى اللهُ أيامَ الهريسة وابلاً

من الدُّهنِ ما ينفَكُّ هيَدبُه يَهمي

May God send days of want dripping abundance

Whose plenty cascades, gushing forth unrestrained.