يَطولُ عَلَيَّ اللَيلُ حَتّى أَمَلَّهُ

فَأَجلِسَ وَالنُوّامُ في غَفلَةٍ عَنّي

The night seems endless until I grow weary of it

So I sit while the slumberers remain oblivious to me

فَلا أَنا بِالراضي مِنَ الدَهرِ فِعلَهُ

وَلا الدَهرُ يَرضى بِالَّذي نالَهُ مِنّي

I am not pleased with what fate has done

Nor is fate pleased with what it has got from me