and, as his want deepened into utter poverty and humiliation, he said:
“I have exchanged the proud shade of fluttering banners
for the abasement of iron and the weight of chains.
My steel had once been a supple spear-point,
a keen, slender, polished blade;
but now that steel—and this iron black as night—
gnaw at my shins like ravening lions.” (1)

It is related that on one ʿĪd his daughters came to see him. In Aghmāt they were earning a living by spinning yarn for hire. When he beheld them in threadbare rags his heart cracked, and he recited:
“In days gone by the festivals filled you with delight,
but ʿĪd has reached you in Aghmāt in fetters.
You watch your daughters, hungry, clad in tatters,
spinning for others without owning so much as a trifle.
They step toward you to offer greetings, humbled,
their eyes weary and broken.
They tread the mud with bare feet—
as though they had never trodden on musk and camphor.” (2)

From another of his odes:
“On the day I faced them in combat
I resolved that mail would grant me no defense;
I stepped forth in nothing but a thin shirt—
no other covering shielded my breast.
My appointed term was deferred; it was not my wish
to meet with humiliation and submission.
Never once did I march to battle
harboring any hope of return.” (3)