بِأَبِي وَمَا مَلَكَتْ يَدِي مَنْ سُمْتُهُ

بِأَبِي وَمَا مَلَكَتْ يَدِي مَنْ سُمْتُهُ

وَصْلاً فَلَمْ يَكُ لِي إِلَيهِ وُصُولُ

وَصْلاً فَلَمْ يَكُ لِي إِلَيهِ وُصُولُ

May my father and all my hand possesses be ransom for the one I asked

By my father and all I own

for union, yet I had no way to reach him.

Of him I loved, but could not join

يَهْوَى الخِلافَ وَقَدْ هَويْتُ مَقالَ لا

يَهْوَى الخِلافَ وَقَدْ هَويْتُ مَقالَ لا

إِذْ لَمْ يَزَلْ أَبداً بِفيهِ يَجُولُ

إِذْ لَمْ يَزَلْ أَبداً بِفيهِ يَجُولُ

He loves contrariness, and I have come to love the utterance “No,”

He craves discord, though I've sought

since it never ceases to roll about in his mouth.

Words that roam his mouth, distraught