لخمسَ عشرةَ نازلتُ الكُماةَ إلى

لخمسَ عشرةَ نازلتُ الكُماةَ إلى

أن شبتُ فيها وخيرُ الخيلِ ما قَرَحَا

أن شبتُ فيها وخيرُ الخيلِ ما قَرَحَا

At fifteen I fought armored champions, until

Since I was fifteen I have plunged into battles

I grew gray in battle—and the best horses are those fully mature.

Until I grew up in them, and the best horses are those with wounds

أخوضُها كشهابِ القَذْف مبتَسِماً

أخوضُها كشهابِ القَذْف مبتَسِماً

طلْقَ المُحيّا ووجهُ الموتِ قد كَلَحَا

طلْقَ المُحيّا ووجهُ الموتِ قد كَلَحَا

I plunge into it like a hurled meteor, smiling,

I rush into them like a shooting star, smiling

with a cheerful face, while death's face scowls.

With a bright face, while the face of death frowns

بِصارِمٍ من رآهُ في قَتامِ وغَىً

بِصارِمٍ من رآهُ في قَتامِ وغَىً

أفْرِي به الهامَ ظنَّ البرقَ قد لَمَحَا

أفْرِي به الهامَ ظنَّ البرقَ قد لَمَحَا

With a keen sword—whoever saw it in the dust of battle,

With a sharp sword - whoever sees me in the darkness of war

as I cleaved heads with it, thought lightning had flashed.

I raise it like lightning flashing in the clouds

أغدُو لنارِ الوغَى في الحرب إن خَمَدَت

أغدُو لنارِ الوغَى في الحرب إن خَمَدَت

بالبِيضِ في البَيْضِ والهاماتِ مُقتَدِحَا

بالبِيضِ في البَيْضِ والهاماتِ مُقتَدِحَا

I go forth to the fire of battle in war, if it dies down,

I march to the fires of battle, and if it dies down

striking sparks with bright swords against helmets and heads.

I rekindle it with the whites of swords and spears

فَسَلْ كُماةَ الوغَى عنّي لِتَعلم كم

فَسَلْ كُماةَ الوغَى عنّي لِتَعلم كم

كَرْبٍ كشفتُ وكم ضِيقٍ بيَ اُنْفَسحَا

كَرْبٍ كشفتُ وكم ضِيقٍ بيَ اُنْفَسحَا

So ask battle's armored champions about me, to learn how many

So ask the battlefields about me, that you may know

troubles I dispelled, and how many narrow straits grew wide through me.

How much distress I have removed, and how much tightness has opened up through me