أَلِمّا عَلى دارٍ بِمُنقَطِعِ اللِوى

خَلاءٍ تُعَفّيها رِياحُ الجَنايِبِ

When at a house, deserted and forlorn,

Swept by the winds of the south, I did mourn,

مَنازِلُ كانَت مِن أُناسٍ عَهِدتُهُم

غَطاريفَ مُردٍ سادَةً وَأَشايِبِ

A home where once dwelt people that I knew,

Chiefs and elders of dignity and fame,

لَعَمرُكَ ما لِلفاخِرينَ عَشيرَةٌ

تُفاخِرُني وَلا لَهُم مِثلُ غالِبِ

By my life, no tribe of boasters could compare,

Nor match the exalted house of Mudar's heir,

بَنى بَيتَهُ حَتّى اِستَقَلَّ مَكانَهُ

فَسامى بِهِ الجَوزاءَ بَينَ الكَواكِبِ

He built his home until he made it rise,

Touching the stars that light the evening skies,

وَبَيتُ الكُلَيبِيِّ القَصيرُ عِمادُهُ

يُمَدُّ عَلَيهِ اللُؤمُ مِن كُلِّ جانِبِ

While the short house of Kulayb still depends,

On props and buttresses from all its ends,