يا أَميرَ الذَّكاءِ يا بْنَ خُلَيْفٍ

أَظْهَرَ الشعرُ في يَدَيْكَ اللُّصوصا

O Prince of wit, O Ibn Khulayf's son

Poetry has revealed its thieves in your hands

فاقتطِعْ عَمْلَةَ الأَدِيبِ عُمَوماً

وأَضِفْها إِلى عُلاَكَ خُصُوصَا

So take the poet's coin as your due

And add it specially to your glory

فَهْيَ إِنْ صَحَّ نَظْمُهَا بِكَ أَحْرَى

لا أَصابَ الثناءُ عنكَ مَحِيصا

For if its verse is rendered right by you

Praise cannot but to you redound, timelessly