1. I wrote to you seeking wealth,
Either from your hands or your father Al-Haitham's hands,

2. Hands that were first to call people in towns,
And valor in the paths of unyielding Ajaj,

3. The givers of food when matters worsened,
The feeders when a hand did not feed,

4. The reformers with their wealth of the rich people,
And the warriors whose lances’ tips were tainted with blood.

5. I swore by those raising their palms,
Between the rubbles and the basin of Zamzam,

6. That you will receive a famous eulogy,
Fresh, known to friends of the season.