1. My Master, O You whose hands
Are like the valleys' foothills.

2. I'm a devoted slave, ready
To defeat the foe's misdeeds.

3. My soul's accustomed to hunt
Lions in their lairs and beds.

4. From Homs's land to Sinbad's
Towns, You hold the kingdoms' reins.

5. On them I stay, for a whiff
Or news from a coming raid.

6. With striking and stabbing there
I ply my trade before the throne.

7. Until their zeal I unearth
With keenest blades that hone.

8. By the right of Lakhm and Tayy,
Of Kinda and Murad's line.

9. If we're not cave lions roaring,
We are vipers of the sand.