كَيفَ الرَباحُ وَقَد تَأَلّى رَبُّنا
بِالعَصرِ إِنَّ المَرءَ حِلفُ خَسارِ
How is the breeze when our Lord has sworn
By time, the human is losing indeed!
وَتَقاسُمُ الأَيّامِ مَن مَرَّت بِهِ
مِن أَهلِها كَتَقاسُمِ الأَيسارِ
The days allotted to pass him by
Share as if they were equal in might and need
هِيَ سَبعَةٌ مِثلُ القَداحِ فَوائِزٌ
مُتَساوِياتٌ في غِناً وَيَسارِ
Seven alike as goblets they are
Matching in wealth and dearth, agreed
مُتَشابِهاتٌ ما اِقتَضَينَ مَِن الفَتى
نَفَساً فَرامَ اللِيَ بِالإِعسارِ
Similar in what they exact from the lad
A soul whom poverty has stamped its deed
وَمِنَ العَجائِبِ أَنَّني عانٍ بِها
أَرجو المَنيَّةَ أَن تَفُكَّ إِساري
Of wonders, I bear them, hoping for death
To free my shackles and captive steed
وَالمَوتُ يَأخُذُ كُلَّ حينٍ باكِرٌ
أَو مُظهِرٌ أَو رائِحٌ أَو ساري
Each instant, early or late, death takes
Approaching or leaving, it pays no heed
وَمِنَ الجِهاتِ السِتِّ لا هُوَ طارِقٌ
مِن عَن يَميني مَرَّةً وَيَساري
From all six directions, no knock does it make
Once from my right and once from my left, indeed
ما يَفخَرُ الأَسَديُّ بَعدَ حِمامِهِ
بِنُسورِ مَعرَكَةٍ وَلا بِنِسارِ
No more would the Asadi boast of his doves
After battle, neither crest nor steed
