أَبي فارِسُ الصَرماءِ عَمرُو بنُ مالِكٍ

غَداةَ الوَغى إِذ مالَ بِالجَدَّ عاثِرُ

My father, horseman of Sarma, Amr son of Malik

On the morning of battle when he charged, stumbling

غَداةَ أَقامَ الناسُ في حَجرَتَيهِم

ضِراباً كَما ذيدَ الخِماسُ البَواكرُ

On the morning when people stayed in their rooms

Beating as the zealous beat the early risers

بِضَربٍ يُطيرُ الهامَ عَن سَكِناتِهِ

وَإِصرادِ طَعنٍ وَالقَنا مُتَشاجِرُ

With blows that make dreams fly from their dwellings

And thrusting of spears and the warrior is embroiled

فَما غَمَرَتهُ الحَربُ إذ شَمَّرَت لَهُ

وَلا خارَ إِذ جُرَّت عَلَيهِ الجَرائِرُ

So the war did not overwhelm him when it was ferocious

Nor did he flee when vile acts were perpetrated

وَقَومي إِذا كَحلٌ عَلى الناسِ صَرَّحَت

وَلاذَ بِأَذراءِ البُيوتِ الأَباعِرُ

And my people when adversity afflicts the people, they display

And take refuge in the broken down houses

وَكانَ اِتِّياماً كُلُّ حَرفٍ غَزيرَةٍ

أَهانوا لَها الأَموالَ وَالعِرضُ وافِرُ

And they were like orphans, every deep ravine

They violated their wealth, honor abundant

هُمُ صَبَّحوا أَهلَ الطِفافِ وَسِربَةٍ

بِشُعثٍ عَلَيها المُصلِتونَ المَغاوِرُ

They left the people of Tifaf and Sirba

Disheveled, while the praying ones departed

كَأَنَّ الجِيادَ الشُعثَ تَحتَ رِحالِهِم

سَمامٌ دَعاها لِلمَزاحِفِ ناجِرُ

As if the disheveled horses under their saddlebags

Are buzzards it called to the dusk prayer