JAWAHIRI 67
Descend, croaking [of crows], and let your echoes be greeted by the
hooting of owls. Ruin, descend.
Descend upon those sluggards of whose laziness even flies complain.
From too much cringing of their necks they cannot tell the colour of the
sky
Their heads trampled underfoot as often as dust.
Descend upon those hungry goats that are still taken to be milked
Upon those misshapen creatures to whose life even dogs would not stoop.