رُبَّ نَدمانٍ كَريمٍ ماجِدٍ

سَيِّدِ الجَدَّينِ مِن فَرعَي مُضَر

Many a noble, glorious, generous man

Lord of the two races, of the branches of Mudar

قَد سَقَيتُ الكَأَسَ حَتّى هَرَّها

لَم يُخالِط صَفوَها مِنهُ كَدَر

I have offered the cup till it overflowed

Its purity unmingled with any turbidity

قُلتُ قُم صَلِّ فَصَلّى قاعِداً

تَتَغَشّاهُ سَماديرُ السَكَر

I said, “Arise and pray,” but he prayed sitting

Veiled by the curtains of drunkenness

قَرَنَ الظُهرَ مَعَ العَصرِ كَما

تُقرَنُ الحِقَّةُ بِالحِقِّ الذَكَر

He joined midday with afternoon prayer

As the ring is joined with the gem

تَرَكَ الفَجرَ فَما يَقرَؤُها

وَقَرا الكَوثَرَ مِن بَينِ السُوَر

He missed the dawn prayer and read it not

But he read Al-Kawthar from among the suras