أيا سيدي ما لفظ شعري بروضة

ولا بحره للواردين بمشتهى

O my lord, the wording of my poetry is no garden,

Nor is its sea desirable to those who drink;

ولكنه بحر الندَى حيث جاءكم

يكون أجاجاً دونكم فإذا انتهى

Yet, as it comes to you, it is a sea of bounty:

Before reaching you, it is bitter brine—but once it arrives...