The day when the waves of the Qaf Sea
(The meters of the rhythmical poetry are known in Arabic as "seas")
Crashed and I leaned the tip of the pen,
From the great value of the writings,
From ember of the thought and sensation
it grew the fire of the poetry.
And the poems are not the same!
Nothing makes the poet tired except the idea of the line of poetry,
That will confirm his presence even in his absence.
Oh Heart... Oh Heart to you are the endings
Your patience on the time even if it was great incident.
Your friend, if you didn't consider his value, you are mistaken.
Your friend, even the time consider his value.
I have been called Hamdan since childhood.
And I am called Fazza... and the name here on behalf
And with any name of names I've been called.
Oh Allah, you heart, there is nothing strange
(Fazza) from above your supposition,
The day you surmised and the feat (Hamdan)
That will allow you (give you) of ability.
Who think that from life I didn't suffer
I suffered.... But I suffered firmly
I am thirsty and if I saw the earth's water, I would refuse
I am used to drink from the highest clouds
And if it was like a challenge, I won't challenge
Except who gain the glory by his youth
And the wisdom that haunt me. I won't feel...
That the hope is clouded from above with depression.
From a tree, I can make a thousand of matches
And with one match I burn an entire forest.
Original Translation: Fazzanella