قُلْ لابنِ فَهْدٍ وإن شطَّتْ مَنازِلُه

وكم بعيدٍ على العافين ما بَعُدا

Tell the son of Fahd, though his dwellings spread far,

How far is far for the healthy, how little the breadth!

إنَّ الغُصونَ التي رَوَّيْتَها شحَبَتْ

وكيف نُضرتُها والماءُ قد نَفَدا

The branches you watered have withered away;

How can they be verdant when water's run short?

غَشِيتُ بعدَك منسوباً إلى أدبٍ

يجفو الأديبَ ويُطفي نُورَه حسدَا

Since you left I've pretended to master the art

That spurns the true master and dampens his torch through envy.