وَمَسمَعٍ تَحلو اِجتِماعاتُنا

وَمَسمَعٍ تَحلو اِجتِماعاتُنا

حَتّى إِذا وافى غَدَت مُرَّه

حَتّى إِذا وافى غَدَت مُرَّه

And a singer—our gatherings are sweet,

With eager ears our meetings are so sweet,

until he arrives, when they turn bitter.

Until tomorrow comes with cares replete;

نَعجَبُ مِن كَثرَةِ إِعجابِهِ

نَعجَبُ مِن كَثرَةِ إِعجابِهِ

وَقدرُهُ أَهوَنُ مِن بَعرَه

وَقدرُهُ أَهوَنُ مِن بَعرَه

We marvel at how much he admires himself,

Then we wonder that we thought so much of it,

yet his worth is less than a pellet of dung.

And hold its worth less than an onion's shoot;

إِذا هَرَبنا مِن مُقاساتِهِ

إِذا هَرَبنا مِن مُقاساتِهِ

يَجيئُنا بِالخَيطِ وَالمَغرَه

يَجيئُنا بِالخَيطِ وَالمَغرَه

When we flee from having to endure him,

If from its irksomeness we try to flee,

he comes to us with thread and red ochre.

It draws us back with thread and with a clew.