وَصِبيَةٍ مِثلِ فِراخِ الذُرِ

سودِ الوُجوهِ كَسَوادِ القِدرِ

Like fledglings of the sparrow

Black-faced, as black as a cooking pot

جاءَ الشِتاءُ وَهُمُ بِشَرِّ

بِغَيرِ قُمصٍ وَبِغَيرِ أُزرِ

Winter came, and they were delighted

With neither shirt nor wrap

حَتّى إِذا لاحَ عَمودُ الفَجرِ

وَجاءَني الصُبحُ غَدَوتُ أَسري

Until the pillar of dawn appeared

And morning came to me, I set out quickly

وَبَعضُهُم مُلتَصِقٌ بِصَدري

وَبَعضُهُم مُنجَحِرٌ بِحِجري

Some clinging to my chest

Some curled up against my wall

أَسبِقُهُم إِلى أُصولِ الجُدرِ

هذا جَميعُ قِصَّتي وَأَمري

I race them to the roots of walls

This is the whole of my tale and my matter

فَاِرحَم عِيالي وَتَوَلَّ أَمري

كُنّيتُ نَفسي كُنيَةً في شِعري

So have mercy on my dependents and take over my matter

I nicknamed myself in my poetry

أَنا أَبو الفَقرِ وَأُمِّ الفَقرِ

I am the father of poverty and the mother of poverty