1. May what you now await distract you
From blaming and scolding a friend.

2. It wasn’t Time you should blame,
But Eve’s sons—they strayed and sinned.

3. The sword will invade the oppressor’s home
Though he’s sheltered at Mount Semak.

4. His passion was piercing with spearpoints.
His she-camel had smooth skin; his sword curved like fangs.

5. His coat of chain-mail was like a coat of favors,
Yet named for war—Hind or Zainab.

6. He wrapped himself in waves of onslaught
When racers raced and swords crossed.

7. His blade, if he drew it, poured blood
From the skulls of warriors like wine from a pitcher.

8. Exile bent his back. His glance was askance.
He stood like one Rome threw down.