The Daughters Of Time Poem by Amr ibn Qamia

The daughters of Time have shot me, from where I do not see
And what of him who is shot at, and he's not shooting?
Had they been arrows I would have averted them
But I am being shot at by what is not darts.
If people saw they would say: Wasn't he
Youthful, sharp-sighted, unflagging?
So I waste away and I don't waste even a single night of Time
Yet it did not yield, what I wasted, even a stringing-thread
And it has worn me out the hoping for a night and a day
And the hoping for a year, thereafter, and a year.