إِلَيكَ أَبا الأَشبالِ سارَت مَطِيَّتي

تُباري حَراجيجاً تَبورُ ضُفورُها

To you, O father of cubs, my mare hastened,

Racing against the howdahs, her saddlebags fluttering.

تَلاقَت عُراها فَوقَ لازِقَةِ الذُرى

إِلَيكَ لَها رَوحاتُها وَبُكورُها

Her forelocks met above the smooth earth,

To you her galloping and early rising.

تُقاتِلُ بِالأَفواهِ عَنها رِكابُنا

إِذا ما خَلَت لِلواقِعاتِ ظُهورُها

Our mounts defend her with their mouths

Whenever her flanks are exposed in the fray.

تَرى كُلَّ حَرجوجٍ تَخِرُّ نِعالُها

إِذا خَلفَ كورِ الرَحلِ أُردِفَ كورُها

You see every distinguished mare lower her shoes

When the string of her saddlebag follows the saddlebags.

إِلى أَسَدٍ سارَت بِرَحلي وَخاطَرَت

عَوادِيَ مِن غُلبٍ يَكادُ زَئيرُها

To a lion my mare went with my saddle, risking

Pastures where his roar almost deafens.

تَصَدَّعُ مِنهُ الأَرضُ وَهيَ صَحيحَةٌ

إِذا سَمِعَتهُ أَو تَقَلَّعَ قورُها

The earth shakes under him though intact

When it hears him or his den is flashed open.

وَكُنتُ إِذا جاءَ البَريدُ سَأَلتُهُ

عَلى دَهَشٍ وَالنَفسُ يَخشى ضَميرُها

And I used to ask the postman, anxiously,

My soul dreading its conscience,

حَوادِثَ أَخشى أَن يَمَسَّكَ بَعضُها

إِذا التِركُ لاقى المُسلِمينَ مُغيرُها

About events I feared might touch you

If the Turks met the Muslims with their raiding parties.

وَأَنتَ اِمرُؤٌ في الناسِ ما مِن قَبيلَةٍ

تُحالِفُها إِلّا يَعِزُّ نَصيرُها

You are a man in people with no tribe

That allies with them but values its supporter.