لَم يَكُن لي عُرشٌ فَيُثلَمَ عَرشي

كَم جُروحٍ جُرِحتُها ذاتِ أَرشِ

I had no throne for it to be stained, my throne

How many wounds have I been wounded, O she of the shelter

مَقنِعي في الزَمانِ سَتري وَدَفني

مِن لِباسٍ راقَ العُيونَ وَفَرشِ

My veil in time is my concealment, and it buried me

In clothes too delicate for glances and cushions

قَد شَرِبتُ المِياهَ بِالخَزَفِ الوَخ

شِ غَنيٌّ عَن مُحكَماتٍ بِجَرشِ

I have drunk water from cracked jugs

Wealthy without harsh judgments and green carpets

وَتَغَنَّيتُ في الأَمورِ فَنابَت

قَدَمي عَن رُكوبِ دُهمٍ وَبُرشِ

And I have indulged in matters, so my feet turned

From riding beasts and saddlebags

أُمَّ دَفرٍ إِنّي هَويتُكِ جِدّاً

أَيُّ ضَبٍّ تَرَكتِ مِن غَيرِ حَرشِ

O mother of Dafar, truly I have loved you so

What mountain goat have you left without a herd?

خَفَّفي الهَمزَ في النوائِبِ عَنّي

وَاِحمِليني عَلى قِراءَةِ وَرشِ

Lighten the glottal stops for me in tribulations

And make me recite the readings of Warsh