وَإِنّا إِذا ما الغَيمُ أَمسى كَأَنَّهُ

سَماحيقُ ثَربٍ وَهيَ حَمراءَ حَرجَفُ

And when the clouds turn dusk, as though

They were ashes of Tharb, red and in turmoil,

وَجاءَت بِصُرّادٍ كَأَنَّ صَقيعَهُ

خِلالَ البُيوتِ وَالمَنازِلِ كُرسُفُ

And chill winds come driving on, as though their ice

Cuts through homes and dwellings like a wedge,

وَجاءَ قَريعُ الشَولِ يَرقُصُ قَبلَها

إِلى الدِفءِ وَالراعي لَها مُتَحَرِّفُ

And stunted acacia turns to dance before those winds

Toward warmth, while its herder looks askance,

نَرُدُّ العِشارَ المُنقِياتِ شَظيُّها

إِلى الحَيِّ حَتّى يُمرِعَ المُتَصَيَّفُ

We drive the choice milch camels, fawn-skins and whites,

Back to the tribe till mottled dawn relieves all,

تَبيتُ إِماءُ الحَيِّ تَطهي قُدورَنا

وَيَأوي إِلَينا الأَشعَثُ المُتَجَرِّفُ

Slender maidens of the tribe will crouch to kindle our fires

And wayfarers come begging among us, gaunt nomads,

وَنَحنُ إِذا ما الخَيلُ زايَلَ بَينَها

مِنَ الطَعنِ نَشّاجٌ مُخِلٌّ وَمُزعِفُ

And when the horses toss manes between battle ranks,

Riders plunging in the fray, driving and wheeling,

وَجالَت عَذارى الحَيِّ شَتّى كَأَنَّها

تَوالي صَوارٍ وَالأَسِنَّةُ تَرعَفُ

The virgins of the tribe will race as though chased

By phantoms, and the tongues of their anklets will jingle,

وَلَم يَحمِ أَهلَ الحَيِّ إِلّا اِبنُ حُرَّةٍ

وَعَمَّ الدُعاءَ المُرهَقُ المُتَلَهِّفُ

And none will guard the tribe save Ibn Hurra

Invoking blessing on us from that dread partisaning,

فَفِئنا غَداةَ الغِبِّ كُلَّ نَقيذَةٍ

وَمِنّا الكَميُّ الصابِرُ المُتَعَرِّفُ

Till we shall follow the raid at the morrow’s fading

With ever lancer keen and world-wise.

وَكارِهَةٍ قَد طَلَّقَتها رِماحُنا

وَأَنقَذنَها وَالعَينُ بِالماءِ تَذرِفُ

And unsaddled camels that had carried fighting men

Shall be recalled by windy sobs of weeping women

تَرُدُّ النَحيبَ في حَيازيمِ غُصَّةٍ

عَلى بَطَلٍ غادَرنَهُ وَهوَ مُزعَفُ

Made widows, to console themselves with long lament

For warriors who went out and never shall return.