Sol 5.6

  1. May every stout-forearmed man among the tribes be your ransom—

    his tunic’s sleeve too short for him, his stature stealing an extra handspan—

  2. one of those towering, massive men who seem,

    when men crowd the banquet-board, to be settling a blood-feud.

  3. For you are born of both Batḥāʾ lines of Quraysh; if you wish,

    you can summon from Thaqīf a vast, high-crested flood.

  4. And you are the son of a glorious scion, born to a highborn lady,

    for whose sake the radiant sun met the full moon.

Sol 5.6