وَخَيَّرَني ذو البُؤسِ في يَومِ بُؤسِهِ

خِصالاً أَرى في كُلِّها المَوتَ قَد بَرَق

The wretched one offered me on his wretched day,

Choices where death gleamed in each one's glare,

كَما خُيِّرَت عادٌ مِنَ الدَهرِ مَرَّةً

سَحائِبَ ما فيها لِذي خيرَةٍ أَنَق

As Aad was once offered by fate,

Clouds with no gentle rain for one spoiled of choice to pick,

سَحائِبَ ريحٍ لَم تُوَكَّل بِبَلدَةٍ

فَتَترُكَها إِلّا كَما لَيلَةِ الطَلَق

Clouds of wind not charged with any land,

That they'd spare, save a night of pouring hail.