آه يا درهمي ويا ديناري

ضعت بين الطبيب والعطارِ

Ah, O my dirham and O my dinar!

You were lost between the doctor and the apothecary.

كنت أنسى في وحدتي وشفائي

من سقامي وصحتي في انكساري

You were my solace in my solitude, and my healing

From my sickness, and my health when I was broken.

كنت تقضى مما حلى من غذائي

وعشاء يا منيتي أوطاري

You used to fulfill—with the delights of my food

And supper, O my desire—my wishes.

قد حماني الطبيب عن شهواتي

فاحم يا رب قلبه بالنار

The doctor has kept me from my cravings;

So scorch his heart with fire, O Lord.

طال شوقي إلى الفواكه

والبطيخ والجبن واللبا والخيار

I have long yearned for fruit,

And melons, cheese, colostrum, and cucumbers.

ضاع لبى على مقاساة لب

القرع والهندبا وبذر الشمار

My wits were lost enduring the kernels

Of pumpkin, along with chicory and fennel seed.

كلما جمع اختياري حطاما

فرقته منى يد الأضطرار

Whenever my free choice amassed worldly wealth,

The hand of necessity scattered it away from me.

ليت شعري وللزمان خطوب

وبلاء يختص بالأحرار

If only I knew—for time has its calamities

And affliction that singles out the noble—

هل لميت قضى عليه طبيب

من كفيل أو آخذ بالثار

Does a dead man killed by a doctor have

Any guarantor, or anyone to exact blood vengeance?