The sickness has aimed at blindness, if not
tomorrow, The bastard is not one of my goals
And he brought his stolen verses,
various carpenters, syllable syllables
as long as he is still dragging from his notice
cadaver, How can I say in the dry?
The wretched man became slain after that
The family of the spelling is slain Qawaf
He tells you about a ring in his hair
with fanaticism for the non-caffeinated
And the poet Sarraj was missing us
wow, Say about the cobbler
churned out of the kneecap
For beads between molds and cures
the feet of wretchedness have lost you, all of them
In the country of Ras al-Ain, after you left
and you claimed that you were a khimatum, Not
know your father, So some of that shivering
that you were persuaded, and it’s who
Not enough reasons
What did you miss about Hashem?
Were it not for the avoidance of the punishment of honorable
You squandered my hair and then came to slander me?
O bastard! What is this fairness?
and you sought me, you are disappointed
according to the donkey, suffocation
If I do not refer to your father, I
Who is your grandfather’s sperm?