إِن يَكُ سَيفٌ خانَ أَو قَدَرٌ أَبى

وَتَأخيرُ نَفسٍ حَتفُها غَيرُ شاهِدِ

If fate betrays or destiny denies

And late one comes his death not witnessing

فَسَيفُ بَني عَبسٍ وَقَد ضَرَبوا بِهِ

نَبا بِيَدَي وَرقاءَ عَن رَأسِ خالِدِ

Then Banu Abs sword that struck the blow

At Widhra's hands did Nabigh's head go flying

كَذاكَ سُيوفُ الهِندِ تَنبو ظُباتُها

وَيَقطَعنَ أَحياناً نِياطَ القَلائِدِ

Like Indian swords that when revealed do roar

And cut, though gentle, necklaces in pieces

وَلَو شِئتُ قَدَّ السَيفُ ما بَينَ أَنفِهِ

إِلى عَلَقٍ تَحتَ الشَراسيفِ جامِدِ

If I had wanted I could make the sword stretch from its tip

To below the armor lying still hard-frozen