1. They squandered their treasures, so fate makes ready
Its hosts for the hiding place of the hoard.

2. Do not scoff, for time and its people
Are but a mirage of the meadows of deception.

3. They boasted, though they were naught but pure gold;
How then when they are but of pottery?

4. The heavens adorned themselves with their lights,
While they lagged on earth, evil vapors.

5. Though good may come late, like the date-wine
That ripens on the date-palm in late harvest.