أَرى البَحرَ مِلحاً لا يَجودُ لِوارِدٍ

بِوِردٍ فَعومي في السَرابِ وَعامي

I see the sea salty, not generous to the visitor

With a blooming rose, I wander in mirage and wander years

تَميلينَ عَن نَهجِ اليَقينِ كَأَنَّما

سَرى بِكَ أَعمى أَو عَراكِ تَعامي

You both lean away from the path of certainty as if

A blind man walked with you or a barefoot nomad

سِمامُ أَفاعٍ في اِهتِضامِ خَوادِرٍ

وَخَتلُ ذِئابٍ في حُلومِ نَعامِ

The cry of eagles in the breaking of eggs

And the howl of wolves in the flesh of ostriches

وَكَم مَرَّ عامٌ لَم أَكُن بَعضَ أَهلِهِ

وَكَم نُبِذَت خَلفي أَهِلَّةُ عامِ

And how many years have passed that I was not part of its people

And how my people were abandoned behind my back

فَبُعداً لِنَفسٍ لا تَزالُ ذَليلَةً

لِحُبِّ شَرابٍ أَو لِحُبِّ طَعامِ

So away with a soul that remains miserable

For the love of drink or the love of food