كَم رَبِّ كَفٍّ مَلِيَّه

لَم يَشَرِبِ الجَمَلِيَّه

How many a hand uncalloused

Has never touched camel's rope,

شَرَابُه غَنفَرٌِّ

أوأسوَدُ النَّمَلِيَّه

Its drink the datefruit syrup

Or blackouts of the ant's hope.

وَكَم فَتًى صِفرِ كَفٍّ

قَد كَانَ آلَى ألِيَّه

And many a yellow-palmed lad

Was meant for nothing less

ألاَّ يَذُوقَ نُمَيلاً

يَوماً وَلاَ غَنفَرِيَّه

Than days without a crumb of bread

Or drop of datefruit sweet.

اليُسرُ لِلمَرءِ عَارٌ

إِن لَم يَجُرَّ مَزِيَّه

No shame to a man in want

If he but strive ahead

وَلَم يَكُ الفَقرُ يُزرِى

بِهِمّةٍ زَحَلِيَّه

For Poverty's not ugly

To one lion-hearted.