1. لَيسَ طَعمي طَعمَ الأَرانِبِ إِذ قَل

    لَصَ دَرُّ اللِقاحِ في الصِنَبرِ

    My fare is not the fare of rabbits when

    the milch camels’ milk dwindles in the bitter cold,

  2. وَرَأَيتَ الإِماءَ كَالجِعثِنِ البا

    لي عُكوفاً عَلى قُرارَةِ قِدرِ

    and you see the slave women like a rootstock, worn

    out, huddled over the dregs of a pot,

  3. وَرَأَيتَ الدُخانَ كَالرَدَغِ الأَص

    حَمِ يَنباعُ مِن وَراءِ السِترِ

    and you see the smoke like mud, dark

    brown, billowing from behind the curtain.

  4. حاضِرٌ شَرُّكُم وَخَيرُكُمُ دَرُّ

    خَروسٍ مِنَ الأَرانِبِ بِكرِ

    Your evil is at hand; your good is the milk

    of a rabbit doe carrying her first litter.