1. O Ka'b do not satirize us this year, intruding,
For if you meet me, your poetry is but deceit,

2. I am the lion in the thicket of a night,
So curb your mount until the vision clears.

3. You've come bearing a head not yet attached,
As a commander bears above the howdah his order.

4. For the defeated ones will not cease to follow,
The wolf packs whose water the stirred up is bitter.

5. A tribe worn like the straps of sandals,
If they come down to pardon, no trace of them can be found.

6. Their abode is among the Taym and their brothers,
Where the braying of donkeys can be heard.