1. When at a house, deserted and forlorn,
Swept by the winds of the south, I did mourn,

2. A home where once dwelt people that I knew,
Chiefs and elders of dignity and fame,

3. By my life, no tribe of boasters could compare,
Nor match the exalted house of Mudar's heir,

4. He built his home until he made it rise,
Touching the stars that light the evening skies,

5. While the short house of Kulayb still depends,
On props and buttresses from all its ends,