1. My eyes wept and I returned to prostration,
Spending the night awake and vigilant.

2. Remembering a group that turned away and left,
Leaving us deprived of their leadership.

3. They reached the barren valley and spent the night there,
Joining those passed as did the tribe of Thamud.

4. How many horsemen, O mother of Amr,
Whose spears surround the close companions.

5. Like the rock or Muawiya ibn Amr,
When the faces of the people turn black.

6. Who turns back the horses, bloodying them,
Worthy on the day of battle to hunt prey.

7. They collect the tithe from those who come to them,
If the hundred are not counted as young camels.