حي المنازل بالأجزاع فالوادي — Jarir

Greet the dwellings at the valley bends, then in the valley,

The valley of al-Munifa, when she appeared with the desert folk.

When they brought near great mature camels, their elbows bowed outward,

Their humps slanting, as they prepared to journey upland.

When they scatter pebbles from stony ground in the midday heat,

They stretch out their necks with supple upper forelegs.

They reach al-Ghari on their forelegs and hindlegs,

As though they were the roaming ostriches of the wilderness.

I am the defender when the horses are made to rear

By the impact of lances, with saddles above felt pads,

With every tawny spear from al-Khatt thrust forward

By warriors’ hands, withdrawing it and driving it in.

I take refuge in a solid, firmly rooted rock,

Which makes smooth stones rebound when a thrower pelts its rock.

I was told that Ẓarb was readying his missiles for me.

O Ẓarb, you shoot, yet take no prey.

What think you of the sons of Maytha, if they take fright

At night, and the valley’s serpent charges upon them?

Abu Layla rushes at me to kill me,

In foolish hostility against me, though he has not avenged Shaddad.

The son of Hindaba remained crouched upon the damp earth,

Drawing water for a smith, not summoned to lend aid.

Sleep on, for disgrace has already spent the night in your well,

Since you saw nothing of your brother but his bodily remains.

O ʿUqb, O son of Sunayʿ, you have among you

No refuge for seekers of bounty, nor a banner-bearer marching at dawn.

Never trust the sons of Maytha, for they are

Of every swollen-flanked, ever-shirking sort.

O ʿUqb, O son of Sunayʿ, after your words,

Indeed, the assault I have for you lies in ambush.

Recite against me, and please your friend at my expense,

And listen closely, O sons of Maytha, to my recitation.