وَكَم حاسِدٍ ليَ اِنبَرى فَاِنثَنى

لِغُصَّةَ نَفسٍ شَجاها شَجاها

How many envious haters have attacked me, then recoiled,

Out of the bitterness in a soul, wounded, wounded.

وَمِن أَينَ يَسمُو لِنَيلِ العُلا

وَما بَثَّ مالاً وَلا راشَ جاها

And from where can one aspire to attain the heights,

When one has neither sowed wealth, nor reaped glory.