قَد أَلبَسُ العَيشَ ذا الرِقاعِ وَلا

أَلبَسُ ثَوبَ الإِخاءِ مُنخَرِقا

I wear the cloak of poverty, yet

I will not wear the tattered robe of brotherhood

أَصبَحتُ مِثلَ السَرابِ يَدنو فَلا

يوجَدُ شَيئاً وَإِن نَأى خَفَقا

I have become like a mirage that draws near, yet

There is nothing, though it flutters from afar