1. By my father and mother, you are
A tribe, O descendants of Malik

2. What misfortune keeps throwing you
Each day into perils

3. It destroyed you, had you not stood
As shields protecting your homes

4. Your roots held firm
Until you withered in battle

5. By my father, your faces that
Were bloodied by the tips of spears

6. You would have been pillars
For people in the darkest nights

7. But I lament your ruin
And paths to you are blocked

8. The way to your graves
Is forbidden to all passersby