أَصبّحتُ أَفقَرَ مَن يَروحُ وَيغتدي

ما في يَدي من فاقتي إلاَ يَدي

I have become the poorest of those who go and return,

With nothing left in my poverty except my hands.

في مَنزِلٍ لم يحَوِ غَيريَ قاعداً

فمتى رَقَدتُ رَقَدتُ غيرَ مُمَدَّد

Sitting in a house that contained none but me,

So when I lay down, I lay not fully outstretched.

لَمْ يبقَ فيهِ سِوى رسومِ حَصيرةٍ

ومخدَّةٍ كانَتْ لأُمِّ المهتَدي

In it remains only the traces of a palm mat,

And a pillow that belonged to the rightly-guided mother.

تُلقى على طُرَّاحةٍ في حَشْوها

قملٌ شبيهُ السمسمِ المُتَبَدِّدِ

It is thrown upon a couch whose stuffing holds

Lice like scattered sesame seeds.

والبقُّ أَمثالُ الصّراصِرِ خِلقةً

مِن مُتْهمٍ في حَشوِها أو مُنْجدِ

And bugs like little cockroaches in nature

From a suspect or an insomniac in its stuffing.

يَجْعَلْنَ جِلْدي وارِماً فَتَخالُه

من قَرْصِهِنَّ به يذوبُ الجلمدُ

They make my skin shrivel until it seems

From their biting that it will melt away.

وترى بَراغيثاً بجسمي عُلِّقَتْ

مثلَ المحاجمِ في المساءِ وفي الغَدِ

And you see ticks stuck to my body

Like drinking bowls in the evening and morning.

وكذا البعوضُ يطيرُ وهو بِريشهِ

فمتى تمكّنَ فوقَ عرقٍ يفصُدِ

And so the mosquitoes fly, with their feathers

Whenever they get a chance over a bulging vein.

وَتَرى الخنافِس كالزنوجِ تصفّفَتْ

منْ كُلِّ سوداءِ الأَديمِ وأَسودِ

And you see the bugs lined up like the Zanj

From every black tent and blacker.

وَلَرُبّما قُرِنَتْ بِجَمْعِ عَقَاربٍ

قتالةٍ قدرَ الحمامِ الرُّكّدِ

And perhaps combined with a group of scorpions

As lethal as the settled turtledoves.

وَتقيمُ لي عندَ المساءِ زبانَها

فأراهُ وهو كإصبع المتشهدِّ

And the gecko gestures its tail to me

In the evening, so I see it like a praying finger.

هذا وَكَمْ من ناشرٍ طاوي الحشا

يبدو شبيهَ الفتكِ المتَسرِّدِ

This and how much else of the type who spreads out rugs

Appearing similar to continuous calamities.

يُبدي إذا ما انسابَ صفحةَ جَدولٍ

عَبَثَتْ بهِ ريحُ الصّبا مُتَجعِّدِ

Who shows, if it glides down the page of a notebook,

That the morning breeze has disheveled it.

والفارُ يَرْكضُ كالخيولِ تَسابُقاً

من كُلِّ جَرداءِ الأَديمِ وأجرَدِ

And the rat runs like racehorses

From every bare tent floor and barer.

يأكُلنَ أَخشابَ السّقوفِ كمثلِ فا

راتِ النِّجارةِ إذْ تُحَكُّ بمِبْرَدِ

They eat the wood of the ceilings like the teeth

Of carpenter’s saws when sharpened with the file.

وكأنَّ نسجَ العنكبوتِ وَبَيْتَه

شَعْرِيّةٌ من فَوْقِ مُقْلَةِ أرمَدِ

And as if the spider’s web and home

Were an ode above the reciter’s water jug.

وكذاكَ للحِرذَونِ صَوْتٌ مثلُهُ

في مَسْمَعي صوتُ الزِّنادِ المُصْلَدِ

And likewise the cricket has a voice like it

Sounding in my hearing like clashing cymbals.

وإذا رأى الخُفّاشُ ضوءَ ذُبالةِ

عندي أَضرَّ بِضَوئها المتَوَقِّدِ

And if the bat sees the light of my lantern

It harms its constant flame.

وكأنّما الزنبورُ أُلبِسَ حُلّةً

مُوشِيّةً أعلامُها بالعَسْجدِ

And as if the wasp was clothed in a robe

With banners of twill and taffeta.

مُتَرَنِّمٌ بينَ الذُّبابِ مُغَرِّدٌ

لا كانَ منْ مُتَرَنِّمٍ وَمُغَرِّدِ

Humming amongst the flies, warbling,

As if it were a hummer and warbler.

حَشَراتُ بيتٍ لو تَلَقّتْ عَسْكراً

ولّى على الأَعقابِ غيرَ مُرَدَّدِ

The insects of a house, if they met an army,

Would put it to flight without hesitation.

هذا ولي ثوبٌ تَراهُ مُرَقّعاً

منْ كُلِّ لَونٍ مثل ريشِ الهُدْهدِ

This while I have a garment you see patched

With every color like the plumes of the hoopoe.

لولا الشّقاوة ما وُلِدْتُ وَلَيتني

إذْ كانَ حظِّي هكذا لم أولَد

If not for misery I would not have been born, and would that

I had not, when my lot in life is this.

ولكيفَ أرضى بالحياة وَهمّتي

تسمو وَحَظِّي في الحضيضِ الأَوهدِ

And how can I be content with life when my ambition

Soars, while my lot is in the deepest abyss?

وأرى السّعادةَ قد أُحِلّتْ مَعْشراً

رَبتَ العُلا لا بالنُّهى والسؤددِ

And I see happiness made lawful for a group

Who grew tall neither with abstinence nor virtue.