رَمى الحَدَثانِ نِسوَةَ آلِ حَربٍ

بِمِقدارٍ سَمَدنَ لَهُ سُمودا

The two youths pelted the women of the tribe of Harb

With a measure, they kneaded dough for him

فَرَدَّ شُعورَهُنَّ السودَ بيضاً

وَرَدَّ وَجوهَهُنَّ البيضَ سودا

So he turned their black hair white

And turned their white faces black

وانكَ لَو رَأَيتَ بُكاءَ هِندٍ

وَرَملَهَ إِذ تَصُكّانِ الخُدودا

If you had seen Hind crying

And her cheek rubbing against the sand

بَكيتَ بُكاءَ مُعوِلَةٍ حَزينٍ

أَصابَ الدَهرُ واحِدَها الفَقيدا

You would have cried the crying of a grieving woman

Whose only one was taken by fate