وَليسَ أَخو الحَربِ الشَديدَةِ بِالَّذي

وَليسَ أَخو الحَربِ الشَديدَةِ بِالَّذي

إِذا زَبَنَتهُ جاءَ لِلسِّلمِ أَخضَعا

إِذا زَبَنَتهُ جاءَ لِلسِّلمِ أَخضَعا

And the brother of fierce war is not one

The stalwart is not he who at the first alarm

The brother of fierce war is not the one who,

who, when it kicks him, comes seeking peace, bowed in submission.

Comes seeking terms of peace, subdued and calm.

When it strikes him hard, comes yielding to peace.

وَلَكِن أَخو الحَربِ الحَديدُ سِلاحُهُ

وَلَكِن أَخو الحَربِ الحَديدُ سِلاحُهُ

إِذا حَمَلَتهُ فَوقَ حالٍ تَشجَّعا

إِذا حَمَلَتهُ فَوقَ حالٍ تَشجَّعا

And yet the brother of war, whose weapon is keen,

But he's the stalwart heart who grasps his sword

Nay, the brother of war is he of iron weapon,

when it burdens him beyond his capacity, shows courage.

And mounts the saddle though calamity poured,

Who, when cast into peril, summons his courage.

أَخو الحَربِ لا يَنآدُ لِلحَربِ مَتنُهُ

أَخو الحَربِ لا يَنآدُ لِلحَربِ مَتنُهُ

وَلا يُظهِرُ الشَكوى إِذا كانَ موجَعا

وَلا يُظهِرُ الشَكوى إِذا كانَ موجَعا

The brother of war—his back does not bend under war,

The stalwart mounts the charger not to cry

The brother of war does not bow his back to the fray,

nor does he voice complaint when he is in pain.

Or wail aloud though pierced and wounded lie,

Nor does he reveal a grievance when he is hurt.

رَكوبٌ عَلى أَثباجِها مُتَخَوِّفٌ

رَكوبٌ عَلى أَثباجِها مُتَخَوِّفٌ

لِعوراتِها يُنمي إِذا الثِقلُ أَضلَعَ

لِعوراتِها يُنمي إِذا الثِقلُ أَضلَعَ

Ever riding upon its backs, watchful

Who rides where war's fierce flames around him sweep

He rides upon its swells, watchful of its flaws,

for its vulnerable places, he presses onward when the burden weighs heavily.

Though throbbing wounds forbid him rest or sleep.

Rising tall when the burden weighs heavy on the ribs.