رُبَّ نائي المِلاطِ يُحسَبُ جيداً

حائِلاً بَينَ غَرضِهِ وَصِدارِه

The distant compatriot is thought well

Standing between his goal and his breast

إِن ثَناهُ الزَمامُ جَرجَرَ كاّلرا

عِدِ بِاللَيلِ لَجَّ في قَرقارِه

If the bridle pulls him back he drags heavily

Run by night and hide in your burrow

وَكَأَنَّ اللُغامَ يَسقُطُ مِن في

هِ هَوافي ما طَمَّ مِن أوبارِه

As if the bit were falling out of the mouth

Of a tired old camel past its prime