1. ما كنتُ أحسَبُ أنَّ الخِنجَرَ القَلَمُ

    مِنْ قبلِ هذا ولا أنَّ المِدادَ دَمُ

    I had not thought the dagger was the pen,

    Before this, nor that the ink was blood,

  2. حتَّى كتَبْتَ فما أبقَيْتَ جَارِحَةً

    إِلاّ وَفيها عَلى مِقدارِاها أَلمُ

    Until you wrote, leaving not a limb

    Without pain proportionate to its size.

  3. يا كاتِباً جَرَحَتْ روحي كَتَابَتُهُ

    والجُرْحُ في الرُّوحِ جرحٌ ليسً يَلتَئِمُ

    O writer whose writing wounded my soul,

    A wound in the soul is a wound that does not heal.

  4. اِذْهبْ فحَقُّ أميرٍ أنْتَ كاتِبُهُ

    أنْ لا يَقومَ لَهُ عُرْبٌ ولا عَجَمُ

    Go: a prince whose scribe you are deserves

    To have neither Arab nor non-Arab able to withstand him.