بني المُغيرة لي في حيِّكم رشَأٌ

ظِلالُ سمركم تُغنيه عن سَمُره

The tribe of Mughira has for me in your quarters a horse

Whose shade your dark-complexioned women suffice instead of its night talk

يُزهى به فَرَسُ الكُرسيّ من بَطَلٍ

بِإبرةٍ مثل الهُدب من شُفُره

With it the steed of the eminent man is adorned with a hero

With a needle-like brightness from its incisor tooth

إذا تَأَلَّق عنها الخيط تَحسبها

شهابَ رجم جَرى والنور في أَثره

When its thread gleams, you would think it

A shooting star that ran and the light is in its trace

يودّ كل لسانٍ أن يكون لَها

لِبداً إذا فرغت بالرَقم من حِبَره

Every tongue wishes that it would have for it

A substitute when it is done with the inscription of its ink