وَقَد كُنتَ تَستَغني بِلَحظِكَ وَحدَهُ

فَكَيفَ وَفيهِ سَبعَةٌ خَيرُها شَرُّ

You used to be content with just a glance from me,

Yet now there are seven in my eye, the best of them being the worst.

سَقامٌ وَأُسدٌ ضارِياتٌ وَأَسهُمٌ

وَسُمرُ القَنا وَالنَبلُ وَالسَيفُ وَالخَمرُ

Illness, a raging lion, wild cats, arrows,

The poison drinking-cup, the arrows, the sword, and wine.

فَماذا نَرى فيمَن حَوى فيكَ أَربَعاً

بِواحِدَةٍ مِنهُنَّ يَنفَطِرُ الصَخرُ

What then can be seen in one who harbors four

With but one of them the rock itself would shatter.

فَأَيّامُهُ سودٌ وَبيضٌ لِحاظُهُ

وَأَضلُعُهُ صُفرٌ وَأَدمُعُهُ حُمرُ

So his days are black and white, his ribs

Yellow, and his tears red.