أَتُنكِرُ ما نَطَقتُ بِهِ بَديهاً

أَتُنكِرُ ما نَطَقتُ بِهِ بَديهاً

وَلَيسَ بِمُنكَرٍ سَبقُ الجَوادِ

وَلَيسَ بِمُنكَرٍ سَبقُ الجَوادِ

Do you find strange what I uttered extempore?

Do you deny what I have openly declared?

Do you deny the verse I uttered on the spot?

And it is no wonder that a swift steed takes the lead.

The steed outstripping is no strange affair.

Yet 'tis no wonder when the swift steed takes the lead.

أُراكِضُ مُعوِصاتِ الشِعرِ قَسراً

أُراكِضُ مُعوِصاتِ الشِعرِ قَسراً

فَأَقتُلُها وَغَيري في الطِرادِ

فَأَقتُلُها وَغَيري في الطِرادِ

I chase down poetry’s intractable difficulties by force,

The poetry nags I spur perforce to speed,

I race the stubborn, tangled knots of verse by force,

So I slay them while others are in pursuit.

And kill, while others hunt them here and there.

And slay them, while others are but starting in the chase.