1. Alas, O my people, the customs are perishing,
And your covenant is from those whose rope is new.

2. And the abode after life makes its mark weep,
And the abode is but a pile of dust.

3. Indeed my soul has gained nobility through the son of Ward,
Men who among men are slaves come to me.

4. They lead riches, but were not made happy through them,
And they are seated at the appointed time of rising.

5. Wealth does not blacken the miserable one, nor come near him,
But the generous one it makes black.

6. And we have seen a wealthy man, despised,
And rags of a people who died while noble.

7. And wealth and poverty are not of the cunning of the youth,
But fortunes allotted and generous.

8. And the youth earns no wealth by his striving,
For him there is only loser and gainer.

9. When manliness wearies the youth at first,
Then seeking it when aged is difficult.