1. How far, O sons of Ka'b, is the goal you seek,
With your insolent reddened noses, to attain?

2. I drove you forcibly away from Syria's side
By an old man's contrivance and a brave youth's strain,

3. And true young warriors of bright blades from Ghatafan,
Soft-chinned but hawks of nose, and honor's flower and main.