بَليتُ وَمَلَّ العائِدونَ وَرابَني

تَزايُدُ أَدوائي وَفَقدُ دَوائِيا

I have suffered long, and those who would return have failed me

My pains grow yet the cure has gone from me

وَعُطِّلَ مِن نَفسي مَكانُ رَجائِها

فَإِن لَم يَكُن مَوتٌ فَكَالمَوتِ ما بِيا

And my soul is wearied of hoping

If this be not death, then it is the brother of death that possesses me

فَيا أَهلَ بَيتِ اللَهِ مِن آلِ هاشِمٍ

أَقِرّوا بِرُزإي أَو فَسَدّوا مَكانِيا

O people of the Prophet's house, o Hashim's line

Restore me or else replace where I recline

يُجَرِّحُهُ قَومٌ وَيَرجونَ عَفوَهُ

فَكَيفَ وَآلامٌ بِجِسمي كَما هَيا

A folk that wounds while asking his grace of him

When such sore travails my body confine