ومُستقرٍّ على كرسيِّه تَعِبِ

روحي الفداءُ له من مُنْصَبٍ نَصِبِ

And seated firmly on his chair, exhausted,

My soul is ransomed for him from a position he took.

رأيته سحراً يقلي زلابيةً

في رقَّةِ القِشْر والتجويف كالقَصَبِ

I saw him at dawn frying a pancake,

In the delicacy of its crust and hollowness like a reed.

كأنما زيتُه المَغْليُّ حين بدا

كالكيمياء التي قالوا ولم تُصَبِ

It was as if its boiling oil, when it appeared,

Was like alchemy, which they spoke of but did not attain.

يُلقي العجينَ لُجيناً من أناملهِ

فيستحيلُ شَبابيطاً من الذهبِ

He throws the dough gently from his fingers

And it turns into nuggets of gold.