وَعَمياءَ لَم تَجنح إِلى الخَير مَرَةً

وَلَم تَرَ شَيئاً مِن حَميد خِصال

Blindness has never inclined to good, not once,

Nor seen any praiseworthy trait.

هِيَ النَفس لا كانَت وَلا كانَ فعلَها

أَشد وَأَدهى مِن وُقوع نِبال

It is the soul that did not exist, nor did its deeds,

More painful and grievous than arrows falling.

عَسى اللَهُ يَشفي مِن أَذاها ضَمائِري

وَيُبعدني عَنها لِأَحسَن حالِ

May God cure my conscience of its harm

And distance me from it to a better state.