1. A long sword for the son of Harb
With hands that cannot be counted

2. I feel through it the people when poetry is intimate
And I see myself become humbler

3. After having been the furthest
And people grew wary of me and increased

4. Their craving for my poetry
And how much an Ardiya attained me

5. You can see it and a shirt
It was a long lifetime

6. Then it has become fragmented