1. Alas, have they not been told that a day of raging
Would heal an illness were the soul seeking healing?

2. Yet we came upon the blind ones in what they had gathered for us
With the bleating of neither fettered lambs nor unveiled women.

3. They refused us when they were milking their camels
On the back of a weaner, one dismissed from command, scabby.

4. They did not vow until we entered their houses
With the stupidity of death, its weapon belts unencumbered.

5. So we remained overturning the honorable ones among them
And the guts of plump creatures made docile and cultivated.

6. Our illness on every miserable day
With our swords as the wounds had yet to heal.

7. We refused to grant equality to our enemy
While upright with the staves of well-being and cloaked.

8. With every roar whose hoarseness was becoming
And arrows swift as the galloping Yemeni poet's output.

9. And if honor remains firm in Ghatafan
We have in Kirman and Askof

10. Regiments like the shooting stars above each regiment
A banner like the hovering bird's shadow wavering about.

11. They left Mus'ud as if in his breast
Were the chill of a Yemeni coat of mail interlocking.