لَقَد عَلِقَت يَمينُكَ قَرنَ ثَورٍ

وَما عَلِقَت يَمينُكَ بِاللِجامِ

Your right hand has grasped the horn of a bull

And your right hand has not grasped the bridle

ذَرَنَّ الفَخرَ يا اِبنَ أَبي خُلَيدٍ

وَأَدِّ خَراجَ رَأسِكَ كُلَّ عامِ

Leave off boasting, O son of Abi Khulayd

And pay the tax on your head every year