1. Who are the riders between the young camels and the she-camels,
Their faces veiled riding slowly towards the west?

2. Their faces like golden coins unveiled,
Appearing from behind the clouds of melancholy.

3. As though they were statues upon their saddles,
Except they refuse any food but milk.

4. Upon she-camels weakened by travel,
Their necks stretched forward between the packs.

5. We remembered you as the evening came down,
Our oaths soaked with tears.

6. Love has weakened us, we cannot bear our swords,
It has demolished our firm resolutions.

7. When longing shakes us we tremble,
Like numbers on dice when they are thrown.

8. And hearts of warriors swoon
At daybreak like the wings of startled birds.

9. Some stand straight being inclined,
Others flee though asleep.

10. All the veiled girls watch us
Gesturing beyond their smiling lips.

11. The lightning flashes for us and the clouds promise rain,
But where can we find generous clouds?

12. They smile to us from moist cheeks,
Their mouths close to ours.

13. They lift the curtains of sadness and so reveal
The sickness of hearts that conceal their passion.

14. How can their eyes engage with us
When floods of tears engage them?

15. They treat us with the coquetry of the submissive, greedily,
And repel us like restive steeds called to ride.

16. They have taken from us hearts and minds,
And they have left in us for passion only shredded palms.

17. My friend, have the sheltering sands gone since
The twisting necks of the sand grouse have yellowed?

18. How are the high sands where you camped
When the frog croaked through the rain clouds?

19. I love the land where my beloved stayed
Though it does not suit me.

20. I sniff the winds coming to me
So that they tell me of its perfume.

21. I give my soul to the winds
For they pass over those dwelling places.

22. Though I have lowered my love before an opponent
And though I have kept faith with one inconstant.

23. It is as if I am charming an untamed Arab mare
Who always bolts away from my rein.

24. And that was before my hair went white,
How will it be when age makes a turban of my hair?

25. I used to think that youth would be a way
To the bright cheeks of beautiful women.

26. I am the son of heroes; if they called one day for volunteers
They stretched their necks through the millstones of death.

27. The chiefs among them in battle
Raise their heads above the press like pillars.

28. On the day of doom when they are roused
They sever the knots of complex problems.

29. If they are denied a thing they take it,
Seizing the whole with outstretched arms.

30. When they camp their dwellings grow,
They are the offspring of high-bred dams.

31. They were nursed in the bosom of glory, they have sucked
Ambition to the milk of sultans and despots.

32. They advance by inspiration not by footsteps,
And they ascend to high places, not by ladders.

33. All were youths nurtured
In the tradition of the noble sons of Hashim,

34. No slaves have jurisdiction over them,
Nor foreigners partaken of their sustenance.

35. Whenever one has determined on a course,
He knocks loud on the doors of mighty deeds.

36. They have used only spears as dwellings,
And have taken illumination only from gleaming blades.

37. None shares command among them,
Nor pliant one to be led by the halter.

38. No weakling among them, when events perplex him,
Takes refuge in the badge of humiliation.

39. Some pass the night watching their horses,
While others spend it on excellent chargers.

40. Our horses can race to any watering place,
Mares of heroes visiting the valley pools.

41. Their spirit refuses all but a bounding gallop
When their necks are weighted with spoils.

42. Grim when roused for any goal,
The dwellings and ruins are moved by their neighing.

43. Why should I fear the night when I ride it
With the whiteness of swords between me and the dark?

44. A band that when they shake the standard,
Its edges quiver with people from Zaml and Zamzim.

45. From their clashing spears comes a splendor
Like the yapping of foreigners speaking Greek.

46. You would think them stalled in formation
Yet not one horse returns restive from the line.

47. With them every horseman in a stripped gown
Becomes a hero with noble birth.

48. They stab with a stab from which the leather quivers
And busy are the hands of the mail-clad warriors.

49. You can recognize glory in their whinny,
Victorious, or not yet victorious.

50. I wish I might return to the love of my tribe,
Curing profound ills that fester between us,

51. And sleep, until those ancient wounds
Are joined and heal into seamless scars.

52. I have blunted the slanderers' sharp tongues
That pierce the most armoured reputations.

53. I used to extend my claws, preparing them
To rip apart dear kinship's law.

54. I have tamed my forbearance since it was maddened
By the misdeeds of my paternal cousins.

55. I have trodden down the words of the backbiters
Though I used to incline my ear to gossip.

56. I have made peace when war between us grew long,
When war will not make you victorious then make peace.

57. I used to aim at them polished arrows
That would wound the sheltering heroic mail.

58. True arrows that pierced hearts
From behind the stoutest castle walls.

59. Now they will be pleased I have held back
My hands from their complete capacity.

60. For a time, I was the prisoner of their safety,
Now I must fulfil the demands of nobility.

61. If they speak ill of me in my absence
Their gossip to me is like a handful of pebbles.

62. Often they spoke in Persian to insult me
Yet I replied to them in eloquent Arabic whose effect pierced their thick skins,

63. My saliva is too delicate for some people, yet if I wish
I can be as harsh as any Persian in repartee.

64. If there is nothing left but pigeons then
I shall honour my ears by ignoring slander.

65. I will dress the pigeons in red, with hems
Dyed from their blood far from their familiar nests.

66. Since the son of Ash'ath prefers his way of life
To lasting glory built on firm foundations,

67. He has shamefully fled, assuming upon himself
The worst of disgrace the day of the skulls.

68. He came to them with the mail upon his neck,
But fleeing did not save him from defeat.

69. Then did Omayya suffer in the wake of flight
A rupture from some worthless children of Darim.

70. And for them did the tall Sa'al son of Ma'mar
Let loose his deadly lance upon their flying heels.

71. My name has filled every barren desert,
And my fear has silenced every rebel and oppressor.

72. My enemies threatened me in the cradle but
My time to rise had not come, nor my full strength.

73. I have a day that if Yazid and Muslim meet
They will think little of the battle of Ohod.

74. I die not an abject death but on honour,
Disdaining the world with a turn of the nostril.

75. With the daring of Ibn Hurra I dare
If mighty events require, then be daring.

76. Let us travel the deserts, visiting all the dwelling places,
Searching for the shelter of the worn tents,

77. Those dear open spaces, the crowded encampments,
The loved landmarks that bring to life the past.

78. With good will we pardon their misdeeds,
Erase all their crimes from our records.

79. What care we if they speak ill of us in our absence,
Their mockery we count only as handfuls of pebbles.

80. Often they insulted us in Persian,
Yet gently we replied in eloquent Arabic.

81. My saliva is delicate to some, yet if I wish,
I am harsher in retort than any Persian.

82. If there is only exile, I shall refrain
From heeding the vices others speak of me.

83. I will dress my words in red, hemmed
With the blood of far wanderings.

84. Since Ibn Ash'ath prefers the life he leads,
To glory lasting on mighty pillars raised,

85. In shame he fled, he hurried away,
Bearing disgrace the day of skulls.

86. He came to them the mail about his neck,
But in the rout, the armor did not save.

87. After his flight, Omayya suffered then
A rift from some worthless louts, some sons of Darim.

88. For them did Sa'al's tall son, Qays ibn Ma'mar,
Unleash his deadly lance on their receding heels.