أَبي سودٍ تَفيضُ دُموعي

وَمَن لِمِراسِ الحَربِ بَعدَ وَكيعِ

My dark father, my tears overflow

And who now for the lances of war after Wakie

لَقَد كانَ قَوّادَ الجِيادِ إِلى الوَغى

عَلَيهِنَّ غابٌ مِن قَناً وَدُروعِ

He led the steeds to the fray

Over them a forest of lances and coats of mail

تَقولُ تَميمٌ بَعدَما فُجِعوا بِهِ

لَقَد كانَ لِلأَحسابِ غَيرَ مُضيعِ

Tamim says, after they lost him

He was not one to waste the days