1. O Lord, I have warded off the talons of punishment
And sheltered my flock from the sun, while heroes bear the scorching heat,

2. And many a day I have tended the weak ones of the herd
To rest my horses, aiming for the valley springs.

3. On days of revelry for the heedless I joined in the frenzy,
Or stirred up its burning zeal, displaying my stand,

4. While war bared its face, and the sea of death surged,
Many a caravan have I ambushed, boiling its cauldrons,

5. Spoiling them with a sudden raid's vandalizing,
Roaming valleys of fears, secure as a lion led by a lion.

6. If I die with my nose in the dust, I shall not die crouching
In the face of vituperation, like a spineless coward.

7. Nor shall I say, when served by death its death-cup,
Why have I not turned away the cup of death, with death ever present.