وكتيبة بالدارعين كثيفة

جرت ذيول الجحفل الجرار

And a dense battalion of armored warriors, dragging the train of a sweeping army,

A garden of doom whose branches are tawny spears, above which banners bloom like flowers,

روض المنايا قضبها السمر التي

من فوقها الرايات كالأزهار

Filled with champions, sons of champions, resembling lions of the thicket amidst quivering lances,

Beaming with joy at the clash of battle, as though their faces were fashioned from moons,

فيها الكماة بنو الكماة كأنهم

أسد الشرى بين القنا الخطار

Every lion mounted on a steed like flashing lightning, holding in his right hand a decree of fate,

Every sharp blade unsheathed by a soul just as keen, cutting short the appointed terms of lives,

متهللين لدى الهياج كأنما

خلقت وجوههم من الأقمار

They wore their hearts atop their armor and thrust forth, with their hands, fire against the people of the fire,

They advanced, bearing against their foes the malice of enemies and the fervor of defenders,

من كل ليث فوق برق خاطف

بيمينه قدر من الأقدار

The bell was terrified as its tongue was torn out, and the Cross wept for the humiliation of the unbelievers,

Then they turned away from him and his servants, once they had become but a tale among tales.

من كل ماض ينتضيه مثله

فيصيب آجالا على أعمار

لبسوا القلوب على الدروع وأشرعوا

بأكفهم نارا لأهل النار

وتقدموا ولهم على أعدائهم

حنق العدا وحمية الأنصار

فارتاع ناقوس لخلع لسانه

وبكى الصليب لذلة الكفار

ثم انثنوا عنه وعن عباده

وقد أصبحوا خبرا من الأخبار