1. The tribe of Mughira has for me in your quarters a horse
Whose shade your dark-complexioned women suffice instead of its night talk

2. With it the steed of the eminent man is adorned with a hero
With a needle-like brightness from its incisor tooth

3. When its thread gleams, you would think it
A shooting star that ran and the light is in its trace

4. Every tongue wishes that it would have for it
A substitute when it is done with the inscription of its ink