العز في مشق الحسام الأخضر — Aloshari

Honor lies in the swift stroke of the green-hued sword,

And glory above the lean steeds.

And fragrance—you smell it in the rust of armor,

And pride lies in the brown shafts of spear-wood.

So when you strike, strike with a sword;

And when you trace your lineage, trace it to Himyar's tribes.

For they are mountains firmly rooted amid battle,

And overflowing seas for the needy.

Amid the fray they drank from the sweetest spring,

And made their enemies drink crimson blood.

They slung on bright-white blades, and adorned

Those shoulders with stout spear-iron.

And plucked the fruits of praise from the trees of spears,

And avoided the trees that bore no fruit.

They stripped white mantles from their bodies,

And clothed themselves in rings of green-hued iron.

And in place of every beautiful woman they had, they chose

The embrace of every armored warrior and lion.

Radiant-faced Yemenis, save that they are

Leopard-fierce against a leopard-fierce calamity.

Each a bold warrior, wearing a helmet

Night-dark, with every face within it moon-bright.

Each a lion who prevails with a lion,

Or a lion who enters wars with a lion.

The princes of Himyar—who can rival their glory,

When their station is above shining al-Simak?

My people—through them I climb to the ranks of greatness,

And smash the nose of the defiant tyrant.

I am a branch of that root, pure through its purity,

Since its noble stock was my own stock.

Say to him who seeks glory through his people:

If your people are like mine, then boast.

Those who assailed Hawazin at dawn with poised steeds,

So that al-Mundhir's fortresses trembled before them.

If you have not heard of their horses' overthrow of

Kisra, and their short blades' deadly attack on Qaysar,

Then look at the emir Sulayman and his onslaught

With keen sword-edges among Shammar's tribes,

When he took the lead among Himyar's battalions,

Like the full moon encircled by murky dust.

At dawn he assailed them with every bounding mare,

Swooping like a falcon, each bearing a downy-cheeked warrior.

Then he struck Zahir's saddle with the sword's flat,

And laid Bakr low with every early attacker.

Then Zawba's battalions scattered before them,

Until it seemed their rafts had never been mentioned.

So, with his lances in their backs, they seemed

Jinn pelted with a shining star.

The sleek thoroughbred steeds terrified them, and they became

Wild asses—and their flight was from a lion.

Until their host was torn apart, and they scattered

Like Saba's scattered clans in this desolate wasteland.

That is leadership, not Rustam's leadership;

That is courage, not Antar's courage.

O master of strong judgment, and you who are the

Lion-warrior in armor, and master of a bold heart,

After Shammar, you turned upon the Uqaydat, who

Broke faith, though you broke none with those they left behind.

And planted your spear amid their dwellings,

And left them like a bewildered wanderer.

And held your cavalry back from their women's curtained chambers,

And turned away as a humble seeker of forgiveness would.

So rejoice, O son of the noblest, in a battle

Inscribed on time's tablet in ambergris.

How many a fire, its evil blazing, it extinguished,

And slit the bellies of oath-breakers with a dagger!

It is veiled from all but you, for I

Have offered it to your august presence; look upon it.

So cover its shortcomings with the robes of acceptance,

Yet in its own genre it has not fallen short.

And rejoice in victory, past or present;

And good fortune will surely come to you—watch for it.

May you ever be the armies' bold leader, protecting them

With sword-edges and Alexander's resolve.