قاتِل بِغَيرِ سِلاحِ الهَجرِ إِنَّ لَهُ

ضَرباً تَسيلُ دُموعي مِنهُ وَهيَ دَمُ

My killer without a weapon of estrangement, for it has

A blow that makes my tears flow, and they are blood

كَتَمتُ ما بِيَ في وَجهي دَلائِلُهُ

وَالهَمُّ نارٌ فَقُل لي كَيفَ يَنكَتِمُ

I hid what was inside me, its signs on my face

And grief is fire, so tell me how can it be concealed