ما لِلسُّهَى بادِي النّحولِ كأنّهُ

مُتَسَتِّرٌ تبْدو مَخايِلُ خوْفِهِ

What ails the lean boy, looking around in fear

As though some phantom he sees drawing near?

أتَراهُ يشْكو قُلْتُ هَذا مُمْكِنٌ

واللهُ يعْلَمُ داؤهُ من جوْفِه

I wonder, does he suffer? I said maybe so-

But God alone knows what is his woe.