تَصَرَّمَ عَنّي وَدُّ بَكرَ اِبنِ وائِلٍ

وَما كادَ عَنّي وُدُّهُم يَتَصَرَّمُ

The love of Bakr son of Wael has turned from me

And scarcely has their love for me begun to turn

قَوارِصُ تَأتيني فَيَحتَقِرونَها

وَقَد يَملَأُ القَطرُ الأَتِيَّ فَيَفعُمُ

Cups come to me but they despise them

And oft the coming rain fills up and overflows