بَني سُلَيمٍ أَلا تَبكونَ فارِسَكُم

بَني سُلَيمٍ أَلا تَبكونَ فارِسَكُم

خَلّى عَلَيكُم أُموراً ذاتَ أَمراسِ

خَلّى عَلَيكُم أُموراً ذاتَ أَمراسِ

Sons of Sulaym, will you not weep for your horseman?

O clan of Sulaym, why do you not weep for your horseman

He left you affairs tangled in stout ropes.

Who left you with matters of grave concern

ما لِلمَنايا تُغادينا وَتَطرُقُنا

ما لِلمَنايا تُغادينا وَتَطرُقُنا

كَأَنَّنا أَبَداً نُحتَزُّ بِالفاسِ

كَأَنَّنا أَبَداً نُحتَزُّ بِالفاسِ

Why do the fates of death visit us in the morning and by night,

Why does death keep visiting us and drawing near

As though we were forever being cut down with an axe?

As if we are always destined for the blade

تَغدو عَلَينا فَتَأبى أَن تُزايِلَنا

تَغدو عَلَينا فَتَأبى أَن تُزايِلَنا

لِلخَيرِ فَالخَيرُ مِنّا رَهنُ أَرماسِ

لِلخَيرِ فَالخَيرُ مِنّا رَهنُ أَرماسِ

They come upon us in the morning and refuse to leave us,

It comes upon us but refuses to leave us

Seeking the best—for the best among us lie captive in graves.

While goodness from us is hostage to spears

وَلا يَزالُ حَديثُ السِنِّ مُقتَبَلاً

وَلا يَزالُ حَديثُ السِنِّ مُقتَبَلاً

وَفارِساً لا يُرى مِثلٌ لَهُ راسِ

وَفارِساً لا يُرى مِثلٌ لَهُ راسِ

And still a youth in the first bloom of life,

And talk of old age continues to approach

A steadfast horseman, too, whose equal is never seen,

With no horseman seen whose equal holds the rein

مِنّا يُغافِصنَهُ لَو كانَ يَمنَعُهُ

مِنّا يُغافِصنَهُ لَو كانَ يَمنَعُهُ

بَأسٌ لَصادَفَنا حَيّاً أُلي باسِ

بَأسٌ لَصادَفَنا حَيّاً أُلي باسِ

From among us is seized by them unawares. Had he been protected

If he who prevents him had might

By valor, death would have found us a tribe endowed with valor.

He would have met us living, wearing a gleaming coat of mail