قالت قصيدك ليل .. سودٍ معانيه

رويانةٍ بالدمع ... وامدادها دم

She said, your poem is a dark night...

Flowing with tears...and supplied with blood

الى متى يا شاعر الهم تخفيه

والى متى .. تحنى ضلوعك على هم

For how long, O poet of sorrows, will you hide it?

And for how long will your ribs bend with sorrow?

قلت البكا .. صعبٍ عليه وأنا بيه

لا واهني اللي بكى وما تندم

I said crying is hard for me, though I am with it

No, I make weak those who cried and did not regret

لي عبرةٍ يلعب بها الحزن والتيه

ولي صرخةٍ .. واتعبت ابلقى لها فم

I have a lesson played with by grief and confusion

And I have a scream...and my mouth grew tired finding it a mouth

لا ما كتبت الشعر .. لحدٍ بسليه

ولانيب مداحٍ .. ولا باترنم

No I did not write poetry to someone to entertain him

Nor am I a praising poet, nor did I chant

احساس لابيعه ولانيب شاريه

مرٍ يجي شهدٍ ومرات علقم

A feeling I don't sell nor do I seek a buyer

Bitter it comes, sweet it comes

الى لمحتي دم جوفي .. افـ خليه

علىالورق .. لا صار روحك تالم

Until I saw the blood of my insides - leave it

On paper..it did not become your soul in pain

قلت الشعر يوم إن لي .. راحةٍ فيه

وحزين أنا .. إلى متى .. الله يعلم

I said poetry is for me a comfort in it

And sad am I..until when..God knows