1. And thirsty ones in the flames of their braziers
Are watered, all skulls and shoulders,

2. And from the lightning on the heads because of its falling
Thunder aims the blood in a downpour.

3. And as though the wings of moths are torn apart
Scattered above streams from them,

4. From every white charger running in its sheath,
Death's cavalry stands massed on the coast,

5. Making the tax-collectors gallop in their plots,
With lances that witnessed the affairs of Wa'il.

6. And as though a wasteland stretches in its expanse,
In its sands, for the ants, a track of sandals.