1. Except you be camels, mere goats would do,
Their horns like reeds cut down when crops renew.

2. In spring’s rich prime, each dam bursts milk anew
While noble hands prize what is pure and true.

3. When udders swell, the tribe at dawn reviews,
As though gray hairs found youth in morning dew.

4. Back from the lush they rove while droplets strew,
Pearling their teats with drops of silver hue.

5. Thus tribesmen thrive on curds and milk renewed,
When filled bellies leave minds content and shrewd.