رَبُّ دِرَفسٍ خَلفَهُ ذائِبٌ

أَروَحُ مِن رَبِّ الدِرفِسِ العَلَم

The master of beasts, a wolf stalks behind,

I wish to flee from beasts though great their fame,

لَيسَ الفَتى مِن رَأسِهِ مُبدِلاً

رَأساً كَما يَفعَلُ باري القَلَم

No youth can change the head with which he's lined,

As little as the pen its ready aim,

وَهَذِهِ الدُنيا عَلى أَنَّها

مَحبوبَةٌ لَم تُخلِنا مِن أَلَم

And though this world as lovable's designed,

It never left us free of grief and pain,

يُلامُ ذو اليُسرِ وَأَيُّ اِمرِئٍ

أَدرَكَ مِنها طَرفاً لَم يُلَم

And he of fortune's blamed though fate's assigned,

What mortal ever grasped joy free of bane?

قَد يوجَدُ الكَهلُ حَليفَ النُهى

كَأَنَّهُ مِن جَهلِهِ ما اِحتَلَم

In age a comrade finds the wise's line,

As though till then he'd known nor wit nor brain,

كانَ تَقِيّاً قَبلَ إِمكانِهِ

حَتّى إِذا مُكِّنَ مِنها ظَلَم

And pious seemed before the chance was his,

But once empowered, justice he'd disdain,

يَحسِبُ أَنَّ الصُبحَ بادٍ لَهُ

وَهوَ نَهاراً خابِطٌ في الظُلَم

Believing dawn remains at his command,

Though stumbling sightless in the dark's demand,

وَمِن بَديعِ الجَورِ ما بَينَنا

حَربُكَ مَن أَلقى إِلَيكَ السَلَم

Of tyranny's perfection that I've seen,

Your warring those who tender peace serene,

إِنَّ إِناءَ الخَيرِ مِن عَسجَدٍ

لَو خَرَّ هَضبٌ فَوقَهُ ما اِنثَلَم

Goodness' vessel made of gentlesteel,

Though oxen trampled it would never kneel

إِن زَجَرَ اللَهُ حَديداً نَبا

أَو أَمَرَ اللَهُ حَريراً كَلَم

Did God forbid the iron word to break,

Or silk to speak when God the order spake,

أَروَحُ مِن عَيشٍ جَنى لي أَذىً

مَوتٌ أَتاني راحَةً وَاِصطَلَم

From life where hurt I've gathered do I crave

A death to soothe me, set my spirit free,

طَيفُ حِمامٍ زارَني في الكَرى

فَمَرحَباً بِالطَيفِ لَمّا أَلَم

A dove's mirage came visiting my grave,

Welcome that ghost though it awakened me,

أَيُنكِرُ التَقليدَ مُستَبصِرٌ

قَبَّلَ رُكنَ البَيتِ ثُمَّ اِستَلَم

Can one verse-wise tradition's creed deny,

Once kissed the Kaaba's stone and said goodbye?

وَالجَذَعُ الأَزلَمُ لَم يُبقِ ذا

رُمحٍ مِنَ الناسِ وَلا ذا زَلَم

No upright spear of men remains to fight,

Nor stalwart souls to challenge evil's might.