1. By my life that has not faded or grown dim,
What an excellent young man you took from us, O tribe of Khasam!

2. He was struck down in his prime like a branch of the tribe of Suleym.
It pained us greatly that he was struck down and we were subdued.

3. Whenever he drove his horses up the slope of Ashraq
To al-Falij, he would unleash them like a swarm of locusts

4. Blown by the wind of Najd, wreaking havoc.
Afterwards the plains would be covered with blood

5. Where the pebbles had wounded the horses' chests and flanks.
They came home in the evening exhausted, all showing

6. Signs of anxiety beneath the saddles that rubbed them raw.
When she did not chase them with a mare in heat

7. Or a lead stallion, she would drive them on with her whip.
He was the protection of his tribe in times of crisis

8. And their place of refuge. He was the horseman who always came galloping to the rescue
And when war bared its teeth he leapt up to fight,

9. Subduing it by force if he wished or firing it more.
I swear I cannot help but let fall a flood of tears

10. That keep flowing from my eyes and will not cease.