قَد عَلِمَت ذاتُ القُرونِ المِيل

وَالخِصر وَالأَنامِلِ الطَّفول

The lady with the swaying locks knows well,

She of the waist and tender, soft fingertips,

أَنّي بِنَصلِ السيفِ خَنشَليل

أَحمي وَأَرمي أَوّلَ الرَعيل

That I am a master with the blade of the sword,

I protect and strike the vanguard's fore,

بِصارِمٍ لَيسَ بِذي فَلول

With a sharp edge that bears no notches.