وَليسَ أَخو الحَربِ الشَديدَةِ بِالَّذي

إِذا زَبَنَتهُ جاءَ لِلسِّلمِ أَخضَعا

The stalwart is not he who at the first alarm

The brother of fierce war is not the one who,

Comes seeking terms of peace, subdued and calm.

When it strikes him hard, comes yielding to peace.

وَلَكِن أَخو الحَربِ الحَديدُ سِلاحُهُ

إِذا حَمَلَتهُ فَوقَ حالٍ تَشجَّعا

But he's the stalwart heart who grasps his sword

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

And mounts the saddle though calamity poured,

Who, when cast into peril, summons his courage.

أَخو الحَربِ لا يَنآدُ لِلحَربِ مَتنُهُ

وَلا يُظهِرُ الشَكوى إِذا كانَ موجَعا

The stalwart mounts the charger not to cry

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

Or wail aloud though pierced and wounded lie,

Nor does he reveal a grievance when he is hurt.

رَكوبٌ عَلى أَثباجِها مُتَخَوِّفٌ

لِعوراتِها يُنمي إِذا الثِقلُ أَضلَعَ

Who rides where war's fierce flames around him sweep

He rides upon its swells, watchful of its flaws,

Though throbbing wounds forbid him rest or sleep.

Rising tall when the burden weighs heavy on the ribs.