سَكَنٌ يَبقى لَهُ سَكَنٌ

ما لِهَذا يُؤذِنُ الزَمَنُ

A home remains for him, a home

Is there a dwelling that remains for its dweller?

Why does time foretell this?

Time gives no promise of this.

نَحنُ في دارٍ يُخَبِّرُنا

بِبَلاها ناطِقٌ لَحِنُ

We are in a house that informs us

We are in an abode that informs us

Of its ruin, with a tune's diction

Of its own decay, an articulate voice.

دارُ سوءٍ لَم يَدُم فَرَحٌ

لِاِمرِئٍ فيها وَلا حَزَنُ

An evil house whose joy did not last

A treacherous home where joy does not last

For any man in it, nor sorrow

For anyone within it, nor does sorrow.

كُلُّ حَيٍّ عِندَ ميتَتِهِ

حَظُّهُ مِن مالِهِ الكَفَنُ

Every living thing, by its dead

Every living soul, at the time of his death,

Gets from its wealth but a shroud

His lot from his wealth is but the shroud.