إِلىto اِبنِthe son of الأُلىthose who شادواbuilt up الرَغائِبَbounties بِالظُبىwith sword-edges
إِلى اِبنِ الأُلى شادوا الرَغائِبَ بِالظُبى
وَعَمّواand they showered البَراياall creatures بِاللُهىwith largesse وَالرَغائِبِand precious gifts
وَعَمّوا البَرايا بِاللُهى وَالرَغائِبِ
To the son of those who built up bounty with sword-edges,
And showered all mankind with largesse and precious gifts.
إِذاwhen طَلَبواthey seek روحَease الحَياةِlife وَطيبَهاand its sweetness
إِذا طَلَبوا روحَ الحَياةِ وَطيبَها
فَبَينَthen amid سِواقٍa driving onward لِلرَدىtoward death وَحَواصِبِand pelting volleys
فَبَينَ سِواقٍ لِلرَدى وَحَواصِبِ
When they seek life's ease and sweetness,
They find it amid a drive toward death and pelting volleys;
إِذاwhen البيضُwhite swords فيamid سودِthe blackness of القَساطِلِbattle-dust clouds أَنجُمٌstars
إِذا البيضُ في سودِ القَساطِلِ أَنجُمٌ
غَوارِبُsetting تَهويplunge فيinto الطُلىnecks وَالغَوارِبِand shoulders
غَوارِبُ تَهوي في الطُلى وَالغَوارِبِ
When white swords are stars amid black clouds of battle-dust,
Setting as they plunge into necks and shoulders;
وَتَحمِلُهُمand bear them يَومَon the day of الكَريهَةِbattle ضُمَّرٌlean steeds
وَتَحمِلُهُم يَومَ الكَريهَةِ ضُمَّرٌ
تَشولُraise their tails إِلىtoward الهَيجاءِbattle شَولَthe tail-raising of العَقارِبِscorpions
تَشولُ إِلى الهَيجاءِ شَولَ العَقارِبِ
And lean steeds bear them on the day of battle,
Raising their tails toward the fray as scorpions do.
فَكَمand how many a وَقفَةٍstand فيamid الرَوعِterror مِنهُمof theirs وَحَملَةٍand a charge
فَكَم وَقفَةٍ في الرَوعِ مِنهُم وَحَملَةٍ
أَثارَتroused بَناتُthe daughters of الحَتفِdeath مِنfrom كُلِّevery جانِبِside
أَثارَت بَناتُ الحَتفِ مِن كُلِّ جانِبِ
How many a stand of theirs amid terror, how many a charge,
Roused by the daughters of death from every side,
تَرُدُّsends back الجِيادَthe steeds تَحتَbeneath قَسطَلَةِthe dust-cloud of الوَغىbattle
تَرُدُّ الجِيادَ تَحتَ قَسطَلَةِ الوَغى
جَنائِبَriderless mounts أَوor تَقتادُهاleads them away فيamong الجَنائِبِthe spare mounts
جَنائِبَ أَو تَقتادُها في الجَنائِبِ
Send the steeds back beneath war's dust-cloud,
Riderless, or lead them away among the spare mounts,
بِأَبيَضَwith a white sword مَصقولٍpolished كَأَنَّas though بِحَدِّهِon its edge
بِأَبيَضَ مَصقولٍ كَأَنَّ بِحَدِّهِ
ضَرائِبَnotches مِنfrom تَصميمِهِits cleaving فيthrough الضَرائِبِthe targets struck
ضَرائِبَ مِن تَصميمِهِ في الضَرائِبِ
With a polished white sword, as though its edge
Bore notches from cleaving clean through its targets.
Translation model: Sol 6.1