إِنَّ رِياحَ اللُؤمِ مِن شَحمِهِ

لا يَطمَحُ الخِنزير في سَلحِه

The winds of baseness blow from his very fat,

Not even the swine would covet his filth,

كَفاهُ قِفلٌ ضاعَ مِفتاحُه

قَد يَئِسَ الحَدّادُ مِن فَتحِه

A lock whose key is lost suffices him,

The blacksmith has despaired of opening it.