صبَحَ فَضلٌ ظاهِرَ التيهِ

وَذاكَ مُذ صِرتُ أُهاجيهِ

Morning dawned, excellence was manifest, astray

Fadl arose this morning, parading his conceit,

That has been so since I began to passionately love him

Which only appeared once I started to lampoon him.

لِلَّهِ شِعري أَيُّ مُفواهَةٍ

لِكُلِّ مَن دوني قَوافيهِ

To God belongs my poetry, how wondrous is its rhetoric

By God, my poetry—what a masterful voice!

To all those other than me, its rhymes

Its rhymes are destined for all those beneath me.

كَم بَينَ فَضلٍ مُنذُ هاجَيتُهُ

وَبَينَهُ قَبلَ أُهاجيهِ

How much between excellence since I passionately loved him

How changed is Fadl since the day I mocked him,

And before I began to passionately love him

Compared to the man he was before my satire stung.

فَالحَمدُ لِلَّهِ وَإِن كُنتُ لَم

أَحفِل بِقَومٍ نَصَحوا فيهِ

So praise be to God, even if I don’t

So praise be to God, even though I never did

Care for people who advise about him

Pay heed to the folk who gave counsel regarding him.

رَضيتُ أَن يَشتِمَني ساقِطٌ

شِسعِيَ خَيرٌ مِن مَواليهِ

I was content to be insulted by a fallen one

I resigned myself to abuse from a lowlife,

My passion is better than his allies

Though my sandal-strap is nobler than his patrons.

وَلَيسَ ذا أَعجَبَ مِن ذاكُمُ

جارِيَةُ النَطّافِ تُغريهِ

And this is not more wondrous than you

Yet this is no stranger than that other affair:

A perfumer’s slave girl infatuated him

The wine-maker’s slave girl egging him on.

وَآفَةُ النَطّافِ مِن غَضبَةٍ

أَغضَبُها يَوماً فَآتيهِ

And the perfumer’s affliction from anger

The wine-maker’s ruin springs from a rage

That angered her one day and she came to him

I spark in her one day, then I seek him out,

حَتّى إِذا قُمتُ عَلى بابِهِ

سَمَّيتُ لِلناسِ زَوانيهِ

Until when I stood at his door

Until, taking my stand at his very door,

I called the people his girlfriends

I call out the names of his whores to the crowd.