Arabic poetry translated in english hope that you'll like it ❣️❣️🙏

I wished to translate some Arabic poetic verses that impressed me into English. I hope the translation is accurate, and I wish for you to appreciate the meaning.

A verse of poetry stunned me with its magnificence,

The heart has rested upon it since the pen wrote it down.

It became my motto and urged me to honor it,

With twenty verses bearing wisdom like its own.

Do not complain to people about a wound you bear,

None feels the pain of a wound but he who is afflicted.

Your complaint to people is a flaw and a deficiency,

And who among people is sane,yet free from ailment?

For worries are like a flood, and diseases are abundant,

With clear red signs,no matter how their people conceal.

So if you complain to one for whom time is pleasant,

Your eyes will boil,and the one you complain to is an idol.

And if you complain to one who is pleased by your complaint,

You have added to your wound another,named Regret.

Has consolation ever liberated a homeland?

Or are condolences a substitute when a flag has fallen?

He who laments fortune extinguishes the fire of his ambition,

Fortune has no eyesight if it does not see the determination.

How often my trust in those I gave my confidence was disappointed,

Forcing me to abandon them due to accusations.

How often I became a bridge for those I loved, and they walked

Upon my ribs,and how often his foot slipped.

He trampled my heart,though the heart was his home,

So what is my loyalty to a friend who has no value?

Despair is not my garment, nor do sorrows break me,

My wound is stubborn,sealed by the sting of fire.

Drink your tears and swallow their bitterness as honey,

An invasion of flames rushes towards candles while they smile.

Gather your worries and saddle their back as a steed,

And rise like a sword when separations clash.

The justice of the earth since its creation has been falsified,

And justice on earth is neither just nor honorable.

Good is a gentle, kind, anxious, carried burden,

While evil is a vile,cunning, greedy wolf.

All the knives rush towards the sheep,

To reassure the wolf that the unity is intact.

Be shrewd and be a thief without a hand,

You will see pleasures crowding under your hands.

Wealth and status are two statues of gold,

To which nations pray in all their languages.

The powerful are tyrants and pharaohs,

And most people under their thrones are servants.

Your complaint is my complaint,O you who are burned by agony,

Where no tears flowed on the cheeks,blood flowed.

And other than God, under whose Sidra tree do we seek refuge?

And to whom do we call for help,support, and hold fast?

Be a philosopher,and you will see that everyone here

Is fighting over nothingness,while they themselves are nothingness.