1. Do not chide the youths for their mischief,
For, my lord, their vigor is better than stillness.

2. O son of lords, chieftains, people of renown,
I am Labid, then this inspired speech.

3. Every day my resolve is torn asunder,
Content, though never contented.

4. We are the sons of the mother of four sons,
And we are the best of the tribe of Sa'sa'ah.

5. Who feast the famished, the needy,
And strike with the sword beneath the armpits.

6. O giver of abundant, copious wealth,
Swords of truth and hands generous of gifts.

7. To you we passed through lands seventy in number,
When the desert turned desolate and confused.

8. One who knows this will inform you, so listen,
Gently, man, refuse not food you share.

9. Verily his condition results from mange dispersed,
And he inserts in it his fingers,

10. Inserts them until he hides his armpits,
As though seeking something he had lost.