خليفةُ الملك ترى عنده

خليفةَ الشمس تجلّي الظُّلَمْ

The Caliph's successor you see has

A successor to the sun, dispelling the darkness

ذابلةٌ في الصُّفرِ مركوزَةٌ

لها من النّار سِنانٌ خذِم

Wilted in the yellow, coagulated

With fiery fangs, worn down

تُبْدي من الشمع قراً مُدْمَجاً

لولا نُخاعُ القُطْنِ لم يَسْتقمْ

Showing from the wax a molded cavity

Were it not for the wick's pith, it would not stand straight

فجسمها من ذهبٍ جامدٍ

يُذيبُهُ روحٌ له مُضْطَرِم

So its body is of solid gold

Melted by a spirit burning within

تَقْطفُ من هامتها فَضْلَةً

قطفكَ بالمقراض رأسَ القلم

It plucks from its braid an excess

Your plucking with pincers, the pen's head

فنورها من ذاك مُسْتَأنَفٌ

كأنّهُ الصحّةُ بعْدَ السّقَم

So its light from that is renewable

As if it were health after illness

يأكلها وهيَ غذاءٌ له

منها لسانٌ وهوَ في غَيرِ فم

He eats it and it is nourishment for him

From it a tongue though it has no mouth

كأنّها راقصةٌ بيننا

لم تنتقلْ في الرّقص منها قدم

It's as if it were a dancer among us

Whose feet never moved in the dance

قائمةٌ في مَلبَسٍ أصْفَرٍ

قد حرّكتْ منه لنا فَرْدَ كُم

Standing in yellow attire

From which it stirred for us a single fold