دِيارَهُمُ قد أَطْمَسَتْكِ الطِّوامِسُ

فَرَسْمُكَ مَمْحُوٌّ وربعُكِ دارِسُ

Their abodes have been erased by time

So your image is blurred and your dwellings demolished

لكِ اللُّه ما بالُ الظّباءِ نوافراً

بربعِكِ قَدْ أَضْحَتْ وهُنَّ كَوَانِسُ

My God, why do the gazelles wander freely

In your dwellings which are now barren and desolate

وغصنُكِ ذَاوٍ والثَّرَى ولطالَما

أَتيناكِ قِدْماً وَهْوَ رَيَّانُ مائسُ

Your branches have withered and the soil that once

We trod lush and verdant, is now arid and desiccate

أَلبسَتْ دِيارَ المالِكِيَّةِ هَذِهِ

أَوِ الطَّرْفُ من دُونِ الثَّرى لَكِ حارسُ

Did the abodes of the Malikis here

Become bleary-eyed, or are they vigilant guardians of your grave?