مِن حُبِّيَ الدُنيا عَلى خُبثِها

وَطيبِ نَفسي بِأَخابيثَها

From my love of this world despite its vileness,

And my soul's delight in its wickedness,

أَنِّيَ إِن نِمتُ عَلى حالَةٍ

لَستُ أَرى إِلّا أَحاديثُها

Whenever I sleep in one condition,

I see naught but its empty words.