نَفَسُ الخَصيبِ جَميعُهُ كِذبُ

وَحَديثُهُ لِجَليسِهِ كَربُ

Where the fertile's breath is all a lie

Al-Khasib's every breath is nothing but lies,

And his tale to his comrade, a distress

And his conversation is an affliction to his companion.

تَبكي الثِيابُ عَلَيهِ مُعوِلَةً

أَن قَد يَجُرَّ ذُيولَها كَلبُ

His clothes weep over him, rent and torn

The garments upon him weep, wailing loudly,

That dogs may drag their skirts in the dirt

That their hems are being dragged by a dog.