الْمَقَامَةُ الْقطيعية

We frowned at him like maidens frown at old age.

A fìbínú wo ọ́ bí àwọn obìnrin tó ń fìbínú wo àgbàlagbà.

And we found the purity of our day had been tainted.

Àti pé a rí i pé ìwà rere ọjọ́ wa ti bàjẹ́.

But he greeted with the greeting of the wise.

Ṣùgbọ́n ó kí pẹ̀lú ìkí àwọn ọlọ́gbọ́n.

And he sat down to unravel the intricacies of prose and poetry.

Ó sì jókòó láti ṣí àwọn ìṣòro ìwé àti ewì.

While we withdrew from his familiarity.

Nígbà tí a ń yà kúrò nínú ìmọ̀tara-ẹni-nìkan rẹ̀.

And we prepared to end his presence.

Àti pé a ń ṣètò láti parí ìwà rẹ̀.

Until our singer from the west sang.

Títí tí akọrin wa láti ìwọ̀ oòrùn fi kọrin.

And our melodious singer:

Àti akọrin wa tó ń mú ayọ̀:

Why, Suad, do you not strengthen my bond?

Ṣé nítorí kílòó, Suad, tí o kò fi mú ìdíwò mi múlẹ̀?

Nor do you shelter me from what I encounter.

Tí o kò sì fi mi pamọ́ kúrò nínú ohun tí mo ń pàdé.