فخرّ على شؤمى يديه فذادَها

فخرّ على شؤمى يديه فذادَها

بأظمأ من فرعِ الذؤابةِ أسحَما

بأظمأ من فرعِ الذؤابةِ أسحَما

Then he fell onto his left foreleg and drove her back

His hands exult in my misfortune, so I repel them

With a thirsty, jet-black horn from the top of his forelock.

With more thirst than the branch of a thirsty tree