أَغفى ذِراعَيهِ وَأَنحى عَلى
لِحيَتِهِ بِالنَتفِ يُحفيها
He put his arms to sleep and fell upon
He folded his arms and leaned upon
his beard, plucking it bare.
His beard in tufts that scarcely hide.
يَمدَحُهُ القَومُ وَيَهجوهُم
ما شَكَرَ النِعمَةَ هاجيها
The people praise him, yet he lampoons them.
While people praise, reproach and chide,
He who lampoons a blessing has not been grateful for it.
Ungrateful still for favors granted!
وَجَدتُ أَشعارَكَ في هَجوِهِم
تَقطَرُ مِن سَلحٍ قَوافيها
I found your poems satirizing them—
I found your verse mid censures flung
their rhymes dripping with shit.
From tongues whose shafts were feathered from your bow.
قائِلُها أَنتَ وَقَد أَفرَطَت
في نَتنِها أَم أَنتَ خاريها
Are you their composer, though they have gone too far
Are you the sayer? You have gone too far
in their stench—or are you the one who shits them out?
In putridness! Or are you borrowing?
Sol 6.1