الحَرْبُ أَوَّلُ ما تكونُ فَتِيَّةً
تَسْعَى بِزِيْنَتِها لكلِّ جَهُولِ
At first, war is a young woman,
Parading her adornments before every fool.
حتى إذا اسْتَعَرَتْ وَشَبَّ ضِرَامُها
عَادَتْ عَجُوزًا غيرَ ذاتِ خَلِيلِ
But when she blazes and her flames flare up,
She becomes an old woman without a lover,
شَمْطَاءَ جَزَّتْ رَأْسَهَا وَتَنَكَّرَتْ
مَكْرُوهَةً لِلشَّمِّ والتَّقْبِيلِ
Gray-haired, her head shorn, her appearance changed,
Repellent to smell and to kiss.
Sol 6