وَكَيفَ وَقَد صاروا عِظاماً وَأَقبُراً

يَصيحُ صَداها بالعَشيِّ وَهامُها

How could it be when they've become mere bones and graves

Its echo crying out in the evening and its zeal

تَفانَوا وَلَم يَبقوا وَكُلُّ قَبيلَةٍ

سَريعٌ إِلى وِردِ الفَناءِ كِرامُها

They've passed away and not remained, and every tribe

Swiftly goes to the spring of annihilation, their nobility