إِنَّ الرَزِيَّةَ لا نابٌ مُصَرَّمَةٌ

قَرمٌ تَنَضَّلَهُ مِن حاصِنٍ عُمَرُ

Misfortune indeed has a hard grip, clad in mail;

Spears from a mountain fortress rain down upon Umar.

فَظَلَّ يَرشَحُ مِسكاً فَوقَهُ عَلَقٌ

كأَنَّما قُدَّ في أَثوابِهِ الحورُ

So he continued to emit the scent of musk beneath,

As if houris were tucked away in his raiment.