تلهَّفُ أمُّ المُسْبحينَ عَلَى

جَيْشِ ابنِ حربٍ بالحَرّةِ الفَشِلِ

The mother of the rosary-tellers yearns for

The army of Ibn Harb at Al-Harrah's defeat

إذْ يُطرَحُونَ من سَنَمِ الطَّيْ

رِ تَرْقَّى لِقُنَّةِ الجَبَلِ

As they are flung from the pinnacle of glory

Climbing to the peak of the mountain

جَاؤُوا بجيشٍ لو قِيس مُبْركُهُ

ما كَانَ إلاّ كمفحَصِ الدُّئِلِ

They came with an army, if its valor was measured

It would be but as a handful of bran

عارٍ من النّصْرِ والثّراءِ وَمِنْ

أَبْطَالِ أهْلِ الَطْحَاءِ والأسَلِ

Shameful in victory and wealth, and from

The heroes of nomads and weapons