لَيسَ فيها مُرُوَّةٌ لِشَريفٍ

غَيرَ هَذا القِناعِ بِالطَيلَسانِ

This honored veil reveals no glimpse

There is no chivalry here for the noble soul,

Of loveliness beneath its flowing folds.

Save for this masking with the scholar's shawl,

وَبَينا في عُصبَةٍ مِن قُرَيشٍ

يَشتَهونَ المَديح بِالمَجّانِ

Yet once I joined a band of Quraysh peers

And here we stand amidst a Qurayshi band,

Who each desired but fulsome praise and gold.

Who covet praise, yet seek it free of charge.