1. As if battalions of tyrants were sorrow
And the might of the Chosen One was the north wind

2. They came in ignorance while being ready cash, so they bonded
With the pitch-black darkness that destroyed them in the twilight

3. Oh East of the skyline, with them are sunrises
And with their decline at sunset

4. By the life of Yahya, when has their time
Saved them from death, the meadows and highlands?

5. The darkness of misguidance was lit up by a lightning bolt
Made sharp by the tribes from the crescent moon

6. The glories between short lineages
Boasting among them and the tall spear