وَمَا بَالُ هَذَا الدَّهْرِ يَطْوِي جَوَانِحِي
عَلَى نَفْسِ مَحْزُونٍ وَقَلْبِ كَئِيبِ
And what ails this age, that it folds my ribs
around a sorrowful soul and a despondent heart?
تَقَسَّمُنِي الْأَيَّامُ قِسْمَةَ جَائِرٍ
عَلَى نَضْرَةٍ مِنْ حَالِهَا وَشُحُوبِ
The days parcel me out as an unjust man would,
between the bloom and pallor of their state.
كأَنِّي في كفِّ الوزير رَغِيبَةٌ
تُقَسَّمُ في جَدوى أَغَرَّ وهُوبِ
As though I were a lavish gift in the vizier's palm,
dispensed through the bounty of an illustrious, lavish giver.
Sol 6.1