1. A'azil, will fate allot to each tribe
Its share of death, or leave just us death's solitary prey?

2. A'azil, who will possess mountain-top and plain
When we are gone, and shield the weak that we shield today?

3. A'azil, the living quail though towns abound,
And fear convulses even the wanderer's household, pierced are we.

4. Not long the braggart gloried till with blows
I made him buy, for pack-saddles, beasts and slaves from me.

5. For winter wraps, has she striped robes; for summer
Cool raiment that delights you, if her arms enfold you tenderly.

6. The burial mound and the illustrious tomb bequeath no memories,
The settled camp and the oft-shifted show no trace of me.

7. A'azil, once they brought security, my bow and lance
Warding from us the fever that lays men low when destiny