عفت نوبةٌ من أهلها فستورها

عفت نوبةٌ من أهلها فستورها

فذات الّصفيح المنتضى فحَصيرُها

فذات الّصفيح المنتضى فحَصيرُها

Nawbah lies desolate, bereft of its people, and its Sutur;

A chaste people have veiled her, so her screen is her veil,

and Dhat al-Safih, with its jutting rock, and its Hasir;

She whose chosen tent is so frail, her mat is her screen.

فُبرْقُ مرورى الدانياتُ فصائحٌ

فُبرْقُ مرورى الدانياتُ فصائحٌ

إلى الأُدمى أقوتْ من الحيّ دُورُها

إلى الأُدمى أقوتْ من الحيّ دُورُها

and Marawra’s nearby stony rises, and Sa’ih;

When I pass by the tents, lightning flashes announce me,

as far as al-Udma—its dwellings lie empty of the clan.

To the houses her voice is louder than that of the living.