لَقَدْ غَضِبَتْ حَتَّى عَلَى السِّمْطِ نَخْوةً

فَلَمْ تَتَقَلَّد غيرَ مَبْسمِها سِمْطَا

She had become angry, deeming the wheat

A delicacy, and so wore no other chain

وأَنْكَرَتِ الوَخْطَ المُلِمَّ بِلِمَّتِي

وَمَنْ عَرَفَ الأَيَّامَ لَمْ يُنْكِرِ الوَخْطَا

But a smile. She refused to admit blame

For my offense-who knows fate rejects blame?