1. Shall I convey to the two neighbors a greeting,
Both going on a journey they have agreed upon,

2. On two she-camels they mounted, climbing every highland,
Two gray she-camels that make men disappear into the far horizon,

3. As if amputation and lameness were hanging
On two ever-moving bodies, following them,

4. They were about to lose strength after the where and when,
Their breathing almost bursting out of their chests,

5. Kissing she-camels whose udders were not milked by a milker
With a bucket and udder cloth, as was their habit,

6. As if two pillars of their bodies leaned
To the stature of two deep valleys, their necks,

7. As if an abode of eight houses of Qata
Was their resting place, rubbing away the pebbles under their hooves,

8. They are my two neighbors who shall not return perished
From a journey, thus every living being misses them,

9. They are two ewes from the sheep of Qasimah
When they pass, their little lambs follow them.

10. They are two gazelles from the gazelles of Tabalah
Whose flowing milk rains down abundantly from their udders,

11. When they shake their horns free of flies
Their swinging hits the low hanging branches.