توغلتُ فيما لستَ مبديه جاهداً

ولذَّتْ لي الشكوى وحاقَ بها الصمْت

I delved deeply into what you did not initiate, striving,

And complaining became sweet to me, followed by silence.

فمن أين لي خل أُواري بقلبه

لدى الدهر ميتاً في ضميري له خَفْتُ

So from where can I find a bosom friend

To confide in this world, though he is dead in my conscience, and I am apprehensive?