لي صديقٌ أُفضِي إليهِ بسرّي

وخبَايا صَدري ومكنونِ قَلبي

I have a friend to whom I confide my secrets

The innermost thoughts of my heart and mind

لا أرى دَونَه لسِرّيَ سِتراً

في مُناجاتِهِ ومضمونِ كُتبي

I see no veil for my mysteries but him

In my whispers to him and writings confined

لو أَتَتْنِي صحيفَتِي في حَياتِي

قلتُ خُذها فانظرْ قبائِح ذَنبِي

If my scroll were to come to me during life

I would say take it and see my sins inside

وهْو إن جاءَه كتابٌ طَواهُ

وطواهُ عَنّي اطِّراحاً لِعَتْبي

And if a book came to him, he would fold it

Tossing aside my rebukes from his eyes

وأرَى أنَّ كُتْبَه لَيس فيها

غيرُ سَبّي وغَيرُ نَقصِي وثَلبِي

I see his books have no mention of my faults

No insults or deficiencies described

فلهذا عذرْتُه ولَعَمْري

إنّ عذري لمؤلِمٌ مثلُ ضَربي

So for this I've excused him, and by my life

My excuse is painful as a vicious strike