وَدِدتُ وَبَيتِ اللَهِ لَو أَنَّ أَنفَهُ

هَواءٌ فَما مَتَّ المُخاطَ عَنِ العَظمِ

I wish, by the House of God, that his nose were but air,

Then would the mucus not leave the bone.

وَلَكِنَّما لاقاهُ سَيفُ اِبنِ عَمِّهِ

فَأَبَّ وَمَرَّ السَيفُ مِنهُ عَلى الخَطمِ

But it was met by the sword of his cousin,

So it refused and the sword slipped over his nose.