أَتَرحَلُ يا رَبيع وَلا رَبيعٌ

لَدَينا مِن نَداكَ وَلا غَديرُ

Does spring depart, my Lord, and yet no spring

To us has come, or gentle rain from you?

يَقِلّ نَوال أَبناء القَوافي

وَعندَ ابنِ السَبيل نَدىً كَثيرُ

The showers of poetry are growing rare;

The beggar's bowls run over with your dew.

فان تَسمَع لِشعر أَو لِفَقر

فانّي شاعِرٌ رَجُلٌ فَقيرُ

If you should hear the verse or hear the want,

Then know, I am the poet poor but true.

إِذا ما قيلَ ما أَعطى وَأَغنى

فَلا عُرفٌ لَديَّ وَلا نَكيرُ

When men shall say, 'What has he spent? How much

Enriched?' no gold is mine, no gifts from you.

أَكذبٌ في المَديحِ وَفي العَطايا

لَعمرِكَ ذاكَ خُسرانٌ كَبيرُ

I lie in praising men of little worth,

And great the sin. This penance shall be due.

وَلَيتَكَ لَم تَجِد فَعَقلتُ شِعري

إِلى مَن عِندَهُ الخَيرُ الكَثيرُ

Would that you ne'er had found me fit to scan

My verse at all, but sent me to a few

أَهَذا كَيفَ لا آتي بَخيلٍ

وَغِلمان وَلا يُغنى الأَميرُ

Who know that gifts are great, and givers kind.

Can churls enrich the life of prince like you?

وَأَعطيتَ الدَراهِمَ زائِفاتٍ

أَجَدّك هَكَذا تُعطى المُهور

You paid false coins for poems. Can it be?

Is this your custom when you authors woo?

فَطَلِّقها لأُنكحَها سَحاباً

يَجودُ عَليَّ عارِضُهُ المَطيرُ

Then send me back rejected to the clouds

Which drop their rain, and hide their tears in dew.

وَإِذ أَعطَيتَها المهرَ المُوفّى

فَأَنتَ بِكُلِّ مَكرُمَةٍ جَديرُ

Since the full bridal gift was yours to give,

Yours is all grace and bounty ever new.