1. For whom are loins like scrolls
Deserted plains devoid of dunes and hills

2. Time has not worn them though seasons shift
As if a child plays on them with decorations

3. A scribe set to work there with his tools
Raising his hands at times, at others not

4. He hoped to mimic what a craftsman created
Lifting his eyes from the work in disdain

5. An ugly lass whose hands bear no henna nor shame
Awakened, tossing with passion a newborn babe

6. She gives you before the whip her reins in full
And fetching a gazelle she had missed with arrows

7. I soaked them on the day of shouting while some
Hide in the valley, leaves of trees their cover

8. With a white like prohibition, wind and its gusts
Billowing clouds hover, rain showers not cease

9. A herd to please you when it's culled
Moving on, none matching it could perceive

10. A yellow from a spring, a weapon readied
And white hot iron brands for marking slaves

11. The gear of a warrior in war not faint of heart
Nor is he heedless of what God destines

12. With it I witness war when claws unleash
And from it red squadrons take their leave

13. The fighting of a man who knows fate
That from death he'll not escape nor death refrain

14. Were I in a scabbard whose door guarded
The bells of Abyssinians and tame lions

15. Then my demise would find me wherever I were
Hiding from my track a guide with tidings

16. Do I recklessly court perils defiant
What land is without fellowship thriving?