Sol 6.1

  1. Talum, weep freely for the pot of tafshil,

    And weep aloud, for patience is unbecoming.

  2. A hand bereaved me of it, leaving not even the tiny ants

    A resting place in the hollow of its pot.

  3. Its meat, by God, came from a weaned camel-calf,

    A splendid one that grazed on choice greens.

  4. So we mixed lentils from al-Sham with its meat,

    Along with our soaked chickpeas.

  5. Then it came to us like a meadow on rugged ground,

    Calling the neighbors to freeload.

  6. Then I overturned the clan's large serving bowl over it,

    And hung my bowl in a woven basket.

  7. Then God afflicted me with a rude, brutish fellow,

    Who, I think, does not believe in the Revelation.

  8. Then he set to work, tirelessly taking huge mouthfuls from it.

    I said, 'Tharid is indeed meant for huge mouthfuls.'

  9. Then he sang a song to make it clear to me:

    'Greet Umm al-Ala before departure.'

Sol 6.1