1. Oh banners, whose traces have become
Like the writing of Jews on the pages of epistles,

2. Whose bright new flags have been worn away
By the bosoms of clouds and the clash of squadrons,

3. Of them remains only torn fragments
And a lone horseman unemployed in the stable,

4. Three rusty broken down pails
On a feeble, discolored rope,

5. Your mornings of water and pasture like a downpour
Of rain between tents and dwellings,

6. We bid you four thousand farewell and so be sated
But can the dwellings of the ruined be sated?

7. I asked if your banner had greeted me as I greet you
Or if its inquirer found no response,

8. After we were gone did the singers still sing of you
Oh object of song by the chanting cameleers?

9. Or did the desert sands trail their hems over you
Were you not familiar with white meadows?

10. Meadows of the heights, of Yarbu and Ayun
Slender of frame, bustling with activity,

11. Encampments of glory and rallying point though withered
Abode of guests and course of mountain streams

12. Tents from the people of the tomb of Darim
Beautiful faced pursuers of the lone wild cows,

13. You see every long necked one, adorned
Twisted of ear, strong shouldered,

14. And every steed beating the ground with strength
Brisk hoofed igniting the flints beneath its stirrups,

15. I say to my two servants who succeeded each other
Suffice me of my horses and places of descent,

16. Treat this mare gently for she is
The choicest horses, a loosed purebred,

17. Do not neglect her tent, it is for me
Fortification if warriors' arrows descend,

18. And the mill of war revolves on its axis
While all around flames alight from its sparks,

19. There you will requite me for what I have done
If a man is not requited for conferring favor,

20. She is the purest of maidens, dignified
In action not in what fools spout in their raillery,

21. Through her I attain deliverance and outrace
Throwing fear into the hearts of armies,

22. A lofty, glorious, most precious treasure
A hoarded ally of the King of Dul Dul

23. And a day when clad in iron armor
I pierced the bosoms of heights and rough ground,

24. I struck the flocks of sharp cutters with her edge
And she cleansed with a flow the two flanks,

25. Whenever the people thrust at her their spears
She turned aside remaining upright, unswerving,

26. I surpassed thirty campaigns though still a youth
Hunting the enemies in the darkness of night,

27. So what if I had lived to her age or attained it
And became a massive cross beam,

28. And left behind the wailing of Ukail's women
Mourning the loss of the bereft,

29. While the ominous, branded slave remained exposed
Prey for the kites of war and wild beasts,

30. If only I had lived in the time of Amr and Aamir
I would have made some nations lionhearted with those two,

31. So say to the sword of Sulaim, who has sheathed it, be safe
And leave off remembering war's calamities,

32. For the path of war is misleading and confused
Ending with its perpetrator in no gain,

33. Do not listen in peace to those who incite you
For war's ultimate result is the cutting of joints,

34. Do not think war a diversion and pleasure
Or an arrival of rain upon the dwellings,

35. For in war there is separation of every son of father
And death from spears, swords, and arrows,

36. It destroyed the clan of Dhabiyan in one stroke of Dahis
And they became both killer and killed,

37. So do not be ignorant of the abhorred war
For your brother in it is no ignorant fool,

38. And never has the son of your father been a contender
In war or far removed in resolute courage,

39. And I am no terrified coward when the brave
Horsemen of resolute courage have engaged,

40. So do not force me into combat, for I am
Passionate and quick in the field of battle,

41. And though I kill some heavily armed valorous man
Lofty in glory, more beautiful is one living,

42. And how many poets have sent me their ode
And I requited with clothes, horses, and gifts,

43. And many a supplicant fate's horses and spears have beset
I aided though formerly he was not aided,

44. For the most generous of lions is not the generous horse
Nor in war the fiercest Kulayb son of Wael,