قِفا يا خَليلَيَّ الغَداةَ وَسَلِّما

قِفا يا خَليلَيَّ الغَداةَ وَسَلِّما

وَعوجا فَإِن لَم تَفعَلا اليَومَ تَندَما

وَعوجا فَإِن لَم تَفعَلا اليَومَ تَندَما

Stop, my two friends, this morning, and salute,

Stand awhile, my friends, this morn, and greet

And turn aside—if you do not do so today, you will regret it—

The wasteland, or you will regret this day

عَلى طَلَلٍ لَو أَنَّهُ كانَ قَبلَهُ

عَلى طَلَلٍ لَو أَنَّهُ كانَ قَبلَهُ

تَكَلَّمَ رَسمٌ دارِسٌ لَتَكَلَّما

تَكَلَّمَ رَسمٌ دارِسٌ لَتَكَلَّما

At a ruined campsite: if, before it,

If only its ruined dwellings could but speak

A faded trace had spoken, it too would have spoken.

Time-ravaged art and traces would convey

أَيا عِزِّنا لا عِزَّ في الناسِ مِثلُهُ

أَيا عِزِّنا لا عِزَّ في الناسِ مِثلُهُ

عَلى عَهدِ ذي القَرنَينِ لَن يَتَهَدَّما

عَلى عَهدِ ذي القَرنَينِ لَن يَتَهَدَّما

O our glory! No glory among men equaled it

Our glory none can equal, nothing equals

In Dhu al-Qarnayn's time; it shall never crumble.

Its like, not even days of Two-Horned King

إِذا خَطَرَت عَبسٌ وَرائِيَ بِالقَنا

إِذا خَطَرَت عَبسٌ وَرائِيَ بِالقَنا

عَلَوتُ بِها بَيتاً مِنَ المَجدِ مُعلَما

عَلَوتُ بِها بَيتاً مِنَ المَجدِ مُعلَما

When 'Abs strides proudly behind me with spears,

When tribe of 'Abs by me in battle wheel

With them I ascend to a renowned house of glory.

I build with it a monument to cling

إِذا ما اِبتَدَرنا النَهبَ مِن بَعدِ غارَةٍ

إِذا ما اِبتَدَرنا النَهبَ مِن بَعدِ غارَةٍ

أَثَرنا غُباراً بِالسَنابِكِ أَقتَما

أَثَرنا غُباراً بِالسَنابِكِ أَقتَما

When we rush for the plunder after a raid,

Our onslaught done, we leave but dusty haze

We stir up dusky dust with our horses' hooves.

Behind their ramparts, darker than the gloom

أَلا رُبَّ يَومٍ قَد أَنَخنا بِدارِهِم

أَلا رُبَّ يَومٍ قَد أَنَخنا بِدارِهِم

أُقيمُ بِهِم سَيفي وَرُمحي المُقَوَّما

أُقيمُ بِهِم سَيفي وَرُمحي المُقَوَّما

Ah, many a day we have made our camels kneel at their dwelling,

Oh, mansions, we by you would spend our days

I raise my sword and my straightened spear against them.

With upright lance and smoothed, well-balanced spear

وَما هَزَّ قَومٌ رايَةً لِلِقائِنا

وَما هَزَّ قَومٌ رايَةً لِلِقائِنا

مِنَ الناسِ إِلّا دارُهُم مُلِئَت دَما

مِنَ الناسِ إِلّا دارُهُم مُلِئَت دَما

And no people ever waved a banner to face us,

Let enemies unfurl their flags to meet

Among mankind, but their dwelling was filled with blood.

In war, and blood-soaked be their homes entire

وَإِنّا أَبَدنا جَمعَهُم بِرِماحِنا

وَإِنّا أَبَدنا جَمعَهُم بِرِماحِنا

وَإِنّا ضَرَبنا كَبشَهُم فَتَحَطَّما

وَإِنّا ضَرَبنا كَبشَهُم فَتَحَطَّما

And indeed, we annihilated their host with our spears,

Our lances broke their ranks in disarray

And indeed, we struck their ram—their chief—and he was shattered,

And smashed their bulls, breaking their strength away

بِكُلِّ رَقيقِ الشَفرَتَينِ مُهَنَّدٍ

بِكُلِّ رَقيقِ الشَفرَتَينِ مُهَنَّدٍ

حُسامٍ إِذا لاقى الضَريبَةَ صَمَّما

حُسامٍ إِذا لاقى الضَريبَةَ صَمَّما

With every sword of Indian steel, fine at both edges,

The Indian blades our bright swords sunder all

A keen blade that, when it meets its target, cuts clean through.

Well-balanced, striking coats of mail, and shatter

يُفَلِّقُ هامَ الدارِعينَ ذُبابُهُ

يُفَلِّقُ هامَ الدارِعينَ ذُبابُهُ

وَيَفري مِنَ الأَبطالِ كَفّاً وَمِعصَما

وَيَفري مِنَ الأَبطالِ كَفّاً وَمِعصَما

Its tip splits the heads of armored men,

The helms of armored men, their fragments scatter

And severs the champions' hands and wrists.

As heroes' wrists and forearms smashed fins flutter