إِنَّ رِجالَ الرومِ يَعرِفُ أَهلُها

حَديثي وَمَعروفٌ أَبي في المَنازِلِ

The men of Rome do know my clan

My talk is known, and my father’s grace in dwellings

وَإِن تَأتِ أَرضَ الأَشعَرَينِ تَجِدهُمُ

يَخافونَني أَو أَرضَ تُركٍ وَكابُلِ

And if you come to the land of the Ash'arites you’ll find them

Fearing me, or the land of Turks and Kabul

وَما مِن مُصَلٍّ تَعرِفُ الشَمسَ عَينُهُ

إِذا طَلَعَت أَو تائِهٍ غَيرِ عاقِلِ

There is no worshipper who knows the sun with his eye

When it rises, or lost, other than sane

فَتَسأَلَهُ عَنّي فَيَعيا بِنِسبَتي

وَلا اِسمي وَمَن يَعيا سِماكَ الأَعازِلِ

Who if you ask about me will know my lineage

Not my name, and who can know the lineage of outcasts?

أَنا السابِقُ المَعروفُ يَوماً إِذا اِنجَلَت

عَجاجَةُ رَيعانِ الجِيادِ الأَوائِلِ

I am the foremost, known one day when the racetrack

Of the short spear first horses is cleared

رَفَعتُ لِساني عَن غُذانَةَ بَعدَما

وَطِئتُ كُلَيباً وَطأَةَ المُتَثاقِلِ

I held my tongue from raillery after I had trod

Kulayb with the tread of the plodding dullard.

فَلا أَعرِفَنكُم بَعدَ أَن كانَ مِسحَلي

شَميطاً وَهَزَّتني كِلابُ القَبائِلِ

So I will not know you after my whiskers were

A lampwick and the dogs of the tribes worried me.

وَأَنتُم أُناسٌ تَملِكونَ أُمورَكُم

تَكونونَ كَالمَقتولِ غَيرِ المُقاتِلِ

While you are a people controlling your affairs

Being like one slain, other than warrior.

فَإِنَّ اِحتِمالَ الداءِ في غَيرِ كُنهِهِ

عَلى المَرءِ ذو ضَيمٍ شَديدُ التَلايِلِ

Bearing affliction ignorantly is upon a man

Of abject woe, most vilely abject.

وَأَيُّكُمُ إِذ جَدَّ جِدّي وَجَدُّكُم

يُنيخُ مَعاً عِندَ اِعتِراكِ الكَلاكِلِ

And which of you, when my sire was resolute, was resolute,

Bucking together at the clash of calamities?

وَما كُنتُ أَرمي قَبلَكُم مِن قَبيلَةٍ

رَمَت غَرَضي إِلّا بِصَقعِ المَعاوِلِ

I did not cast at a tribe before you from any tribe

That cast my intention, saving with the territory of spades.

فَإِن تَنهَكُم عَنّي العِظاتُ فَإِنَّني

أَنا الرَجُلُ الرامي فَريصَ المُقاتِلِ

If the reproaches weary you from me, then I

Am the man shooting, keenest of the keen.

مَتى تَلقَ أَعدائي تَجِد في وُجوهِهِم

وَأَقفائِهِم مِنّي أَخاديدَ وابِلِ

When your enemies meet me they will find in their breasts

And their shoulders because of me, gashes and sores.