قُلْتُ وَقَدْ أَلْبَسَ جِسْمِي الضَّنَا

صِبْغَةَ سُقْمٍ أَبَداً لاَ تَحولْ

I said, though sorrow had clothed my body

In its ever unchanging hue,

يَا مَنْ رَآنِي أَشْفِقْ لِمَا حَلَّ بِي

يُلْبَسُ مَخْيُوطٌ عَلَى ذَا النُّحُولْ

"Have pity, you, who see what hath befallen me!

A patched garment is made to clothe the lean."