وَوَتَرتُ كَفّي مَرَّتَينِ فَقَد

بَعَثَت عَلَيَّ الهَمَّ فَاِنتَقَما

I strummed my fingers twice in sorrow

Inviting worry and vengeance upon me

بِالأَمسِ حينَ مَدَدتُها خَشَعاً

وَاليَومَ حينَ عَضَضتُها نَدَما

Yesterday when I stretched them out humbly

Today when I bit them in regret

وَبَكَينَ مِن غَضَبٍ مَدامِعُها

أَنَفاً لَها فَاِستَبكَتِ القَلَما

And they wept from anger, their tears

Pouring from my eyes onto the pen

بِصَريرِهِ قَد صارَ مُنتَحِباً

وَبِخَطِّهِ قَد كانَ مُبتَسِما

With its hissing, it began to sob

And with its writing, it kept smiling