وصارم في يديك منصلت

وصارم في يديك منصلت

إن كان للسيف في الوغى روح

إن كان للسيف في الوغى روح

And a keen sword, unsheathed in your hands—

A sword gleams in your hands,

If a sword has a soul in battle.

If a sword has a soul in battle's roar,

يجتاب مما لبست ضافية

يجتاب مما لبست ضافية

لها على معطفيه توشيح

لها على معطفيه توشيح

It dons, from what you have worn, an ample coat of mail,

It pierces what the scabbard has donned,

With ornamental bands across its shoulders.

Adorned on its sheath with decoration,

متّقد اللحظ من شهامته

متّقد اللحظ من شهامته

فالجوّ من ناظريه مجروح

فالجوّ من ناظريه مجروح

Its gaze blazes with its valor,

Blazing is its glance with courage,

So the air is wounded by its eyes.

So the air is wounded by its eyes,

والرّيح تهفو كأنّما طلبت

والرّيح تهفو كأنّما طلبت

سليلها في يمينك الرّيح

سليلها في يمينك الرّيح

And the wind flutters, as though it sought

And the wind blows as if it sought

Its offspring in your right hand.

Its offspring in your right hand, the wind.