مَضَى وَبِعالي الصَّرحِ فارِيسُ جانِحُ

إِلى الحَربِ مِنهُ تَسَطِيرُ الجَوانِح

He passed by, and with his lofty palace soaring,

To war he marched, his heart for battle yearning,

بُعدَّةِ فًولاذٍ تَأَلَّقَ نُورُها

جَرى وَهوَ بَينَ الطُرقِ كالبَرقِ رامِحُ

With weapons glittering, their light radiating,

He rode amidst the paths like lightning burning,

كَمُهرٍ عَتِيٍّ فَاضَ مَطعَمُهُ على

رَبائِطِهِ يَبتَتُّها وَهوَ جَامِحُ

A steed unbroken, frothing at the bit,

Trampling the ground while urgently spurring,

ويَضرِبُ في قَلبِ المَفاوِزِ طافِحاً

إلى حَيثُ قَلبُ الأَرضِ بالسَّيلِ طافِحُ

Galloping through the desert sands so vast,

To where the land with flooding streams was stirring,

يُرَوِّضُ فِيهِ إِثرَ ما اعتادَ نَفسَهُ

وَيَطرَبُ أَن تَبدُو لَدَيهِ الضَّحاضِحُ

There to pursue what he was wont to do,

Impatient till the battle drums were stirring,

وَيَشمُخُ مُختَالاً بِشَائِقِ حُسنِهِ

يَطِيرُ وَأَعرَافُ النَّوَاصِي سَوَابشحُ

Prancing in pride with graceful beauty blessed,

Flying while forelock strands were wildly swirling,

وَتَجري بِهِ مِن نَفسهِا خُطَواتُهُ

إِلى حيثُ غَصَّت بالحُجُورِ المَسارِحُ

His steps led by his soul’s own urging will

To crowds of warriors in each tent converging,

كَذا كانَ فارِيسٌ وَقد جَدَّ مُسرِعاً

عَلَيهِ كُنُورِ الشَّمسِ تَزهُو الصَّفَائِحُ

Thus was Paris when hastening ahead

In sunlight gleaming, standards gaily stirring,

فَاَدرَكَ هَلطُوراَ عَنِ الأَهلِ قد نَأَى

تَحُثُّ خُطاهُ لِلكِفَاحِ القًَرَائحُ

He met a warrior from his clan now far,

Whose steps were urged by battle’s urgent stirring,

فَقالَ أَخي إِني أَرانِيَ مُبطِئاً

فَعَزمِيَ مَرجُوحٌ وَعَزمُكَ رَاجِحُ

He said “My brother, I confess I lag,

My will outweighed while yours is overriding.”

فَقالَ أَيا فارِيسُ ما كانَ مُنصِفٌ

لِيَبخَسَكَ القَدرَ الذي أَنت رابِحُ

He said “Nay Paris, none could justly say

You fall short of the meed you are deserving,

فَأَنتَ أَخُو البَأسِ الشَّدِيدِ وَإِنَّما

بِوَجدِكَ قَد تَثنِيكَ عَنهُ الجَوَارِحُ

For you're the arm of might in danger’s hour,

Though love may make your heart from war diverting,

وَيَلتَاحُ قَلبِي إِن لَحَتكَ جُنُودُنا

وَأَنتَ مَدَارُ الخَطبِ والخَطبُ فادِحُ

My heart would grieve if you in battle fell,

You, midst the fray, our greatest pride and glory.”

فَهِيِّ فَلَيسَ الآن لِلبَحثِ مَوضِعٌ

سَنَبسُطُهُ إِن لَم تُبدنا المَذَابِحُ

“No time for talk, unless the slaughter calls,

We’ll speak again if bloodshed ends our story,

وَإِن شاءَ زَفسٌ أَن يُقَيِّضَ نُصرَةً

وَيَدفَعَ أَقواماً شِدَاداً نُكَافِحُ

And if triumphant we return someday,

Vanquishing foes in many a field so gory,

ستُرفَعُ أَقدَاحُ المَسَرَّةِ وَالتُّقَى

وَتُذكَى لأَربابِ الأَنامِ الذَّبائِحُ

Then cups of joy and peace will be upraised,

And victims for the tribes prepared as offerings.”