قَد أَغتَدي في فَلَقِ الإِصباحِ

بِمُطعَمٍ يوجِزُ في سَراحِ

At dawn I set forth well provisioned

I venture forth at the break of dawn,

On a steed accomplished, triumph assured;

With a well-fed hunter, swift in his release,

مُؤَيَّدٍ بِالنَصرِ وَالنَجاحِ

غَذَتهُ أَظآرٌ مِنَ اللِقاحِ

Nourished it was on the pollen of flowers,

Aided by victory and sure success,

A piebald, bold, and tireless in raid.

Nourished by wet-nurses from the milking camels,

فَهوَ كَميشٌ ذَرِبُ السِلاحِ

لا يَسأَمُ الدَهرَ مِنَ الضِباحِ

It champs at the bit through the long night watch,

He is agile, armed with weapons sharp and keen,

Pawing, neighing, eager for morning light.

Never tiring, as time wears on, of the chase's cry,

مُنَجِّدٌ يَأشَرُ لِلصِياحِ

ما البَرقُ في ذي عارِضٍ لَمّاحِ

Swift, when the clarion sounds for the charge,

A seasoned aide, exulting at the shout.

As lightning that cleaves through the thunderclouds.

Not the lightning in a flashing storm-cloud,

وَلا اِنقِضاضُ الكَوكَبِ المُنصاحِ

وَلا اِنبِتاتُ الحَوأَبِ المُنداحِ

Not a planet that flames and suddenly fades,

Nor the plummeting of a cleaving star,

Not the grass that springs up when sweet showers fall,

Nor the snapping of the rope in a wide well,

حينَ دَنا مِن راحَةِ المِشاحِ

أَجَدُّ في السُرعَةِ مِن سِرياحِ

Is as fleet as it is, when it senses the rest,

Just as it nears the palm of the drawer,

And bounds to the battle o’er hillside and dale.

Is sharper in speed than a darting arrow.

يَكادُ عِندَ ثَمَلِ المِراحِ

يَطيرُ في الجَوِّ بِلا جِناحِ

When it takes to heel, chasing the phantom forms,

He almost, in the drunkenness of his glee,

It could fly through the air, though no wings had it grown.

Takes flight through the air without a wing,

إِذا سَما الخايِلُ لِلأَشباحِ

يَفتَرُّ عَن مِثلِ شَبا الرِماحِ

Full many a steed of generous breed and fire

When the proud shape rises to chase the phantoms,

Has it outstripped, their strength and pride overthrown.

He bares a grin like the points of spears.

فَكَم وَكَم ذي جُدَّةٍ لِياحِ

وَنازِبٍ أَعفَرَ ذي طَماحِ

It leaves them behind, their flanks bleeding and torn,

For how many a white-streaked buck,

It leaves them behind, their flanks bleeding and torn.

And braying stag, dust-hued and high of head,

غادَرَهُ مُضَرَّجَ الصُفّاحِ

غادَرَهُ مُضَرَّجَ الصُفّاحِ

Has he left blood-stained upon the neck,

Has he left blood-stained upon the neck.