يا كِندَ ما خِلتُ السُكونَ تَحَرَّكَت
بَعدَ السُكونِ وَلا أَخوها السَكسَكُ
O Kinda, I never thought al-Sukun would stir
after stillness, nor her brother al-Saksak.
نُوَبٌ فَرَسنَكَ لا يَروقُ عُيونَها
حُلَلٌ تَلوحُ كَأَنَّهُنَّ الفِرسَكُ
Calamities have mauled you; their eyes take no delight
in robes that gleam as though they were peaches.
حِقدُ الزَمانِ حَسيكَةٌ في صَدرِهِ
فَلِذاكَ أَرزاقُ الكِرامِ تُحَسَّكُ
Time’s rancor is a thorn in its breast;
and so the livelihoods of the noble are obstructed.
Sol 6