أَعَن إِذني تَهُبُّ الريحُ رَهواً

وَيَسري كُلَّما شِئتُ الغَمامُ

So my soul can sense when gentle winds breathe free

Is it by my leave the wind blows soft and steady,

And clouds will go wherever I may want or be

And the clouds drift onward whenever I desire?

وَلَكِنَّ الغَمامَ لَهُ طِباعٌ

تَبَجُّسُهُ بِها وَكَذا الكِرامُ

Yet clouds are temperamental, that is true

Nay, but the clouds possess an inherent nature,

The noble and the clouds: their whims I must construe

To pour forth rain, and such is the way of the noble.