1. When it is weighed down in my palm, it adorns every frozen one,
Allotted to no sustenance but its attributes,

2. We thrust them with reeds from the gourd of millet,
When the water skin does not tie up the flowing of its neck.

3. We split open the bellies with the sword, from the young ones,
And the legs away from standing, their running.

4. We hurried away from anger the villages from its lair,
For our guests, while the camel stallion, the tying of its noseband.

5. For them or the wind dies while it is stinky,
When the souls of winter boast of its north wind.

6. And a screaming she-camel runs with her young behind her,
On the back of a mare whose majesty has slipped from her.

7. She twists with her palms the tips of a summit,
While horses which pant heavily have caught up with her.

8. A fighter in the valley of her noble tribe,
Her father is the paternal uncle, smooth-faced and her maternal uncle.

9. When she turns her back, she closes off the sky behind her,
A gallant company and a group mutual in their condition.

10. They halted with her amidst our houses,
While the saddling with provisions has been hastened.

11. We saddled up and thrust the spears behind her,
Spears that rival deaths with their points.

12. The clan of Darim, my people, you see their defenses,
Slaves their margins, commoners their slippers.

13. They drag the music maker of Yemen as though they are
Swords which time has stripped of their scabbards.

14. And they were driven away from you by swords against you,
Morning and evening with domination in Iraq their rising.

15. And while you are those who have not said I am an infidel,
Headlong it plummets everyday, unstoppable its stumbling.

16. And the head parts from it with a swift strike,
Between the two shoulders, hasty its tilting.