سَتَأتي عَلى الدَهنا قَصائِدُ مِرجَمٍ

إِذا ما تَمَطَّت بِالفَلاةِ رِكابُها

The desert mounts will bear sculptures' rhymes

When their feet tread its vacant climes,

قَصايِدُ لا تُثنى إِذا هِيَ أَصعَدَت

لِحَيٍّ وَلا يَخبو عَلَيها شِهابُها

Sculptures no lives can bend or bow

When they rise, no stars match their glow.

وَلَو أَنَّها رامَت صَفا الحَزنِ أَصبَحَت

تَصَيَّحُ مِن حَذِّ القَوافي صِلابِها

Though they aim for the vale of sorrow, still

Their rhymes' blades at daybreak thrill.

وَما رُمتُ مِن حَيٍّ لِأَثأَرُ فيهُمُ

مِنَ الناسِ إِلّا ذَلَّ تَحتي رِقابُها

I never sought vengeance of a tribe

But necks beneath their stride did bribe.