تُخَيِّمُ يا اِبنَ آدَمَ في اِرتِحالٍ

وَتَرقُدُ في ذَراكَ وَأَنتَ ساري

O son of Adam, you settle down during travels,

And you sleep in your abode while still wandering,

وَيَأمُلُ ساكِنُ الدُنيا رَباحاً

وَلَيسَ الحَيُّ إِلّا في خَسارِ

And the dweller of this world hopes for profits,

Yet there is no profit except in loss,

غَدا العُميانُ في شَرقٍ وَغَربٍ

يَعُدّونَ العِصيّ مِنَ اليَسارِ

Tomorrow the blind in East and West

Will count their staffs from the left,

قُنِيُّ فَوارِسٍ ما كانَ مِنهُم

فَوارِسُ رَحرَحانَ وَلا النِسارِ

There were no expert knights among them,

Knights of the battlefield, or the racecourse.