لِلَّهِ أَيُّ فَتى مَجْدٍ تَناوَشَهُ

لِلَّهِ أَيُّ فَتى مَجْدٍ تَناوَشَهُ

مِنّي نَوائِبُ عَنْ أَْنيابِها كُشُرُ

مِنّي نَوائِبُ عَنْ أَْنيابِها كُشُرُ

By God, what a glorious youth is beset

To God belongs what hero of glory has challenged me,

in me by calamities baring their fangs!

Troubles protect me from its fangs being bared,

أُرْخِي عِطافِي وِأُضْحِي غَيْرَ مُحْتَفِلٍ

أُرْخِي عِطافِي وِأُضْحِي غَيْرَ مُحْتَفِلٍ

بِها وَقَدْ شُدَّ مِنْ غَيْري لَها الأُزُرُ

بِها وَقَدْ شُدَّ مِنْ غَيْري لَها الأُزُرُ

I let my cloak hang loose and spend the morning unconcerned

I sheathe my sword and sacrifice though not celebrating,

about them, though others have girded their loins against them.

With it though for other than I its belt was buckled,

وَلا أُخيضُ المَطايا وَهْيَ ظامِئَةٌ

وَلا أُخيضُ المَطايا وَهْيَ ظامِئَةٌ

سُؤْرَ المَوارِدِ حَتّى تَصفُوَ الغُدُرُ

سُؤْرَ المَوارِدِ حَتّى تَصفُوَ الغُدُرُ

Nor do I drive the mounts, thirsty though they are,

Nor do I let horses drink their fill though thirsty,

into the waterholes' leftover water until the pools grow clear.

From watering places until the adulteration clears up,

وَبَيْنَ جَنْبَيَّ سِرٌّ لا تَبوحُ بِهِ

وَبَيْنَ جَنْبَيَّ سِرٌّ لا تَبوحُ بِهِ

إِلّا الأَسِنَّةُ وَالمأْثُورَةُ البُتُرُ

إِلّا الأَسِنَّةُ وَالمأْثُورَةُ البُتُرُ

And between my ribs lies a secret that nothing reveals

And in my flank is a secret I do not divulge

but spearheads and keen, patterned swords.

Save to the skilled, knowing speaker of clear Arabic,

فَعَنْ قَليلٍ تَئِّنُّ الأَرْضُ مِنْ خَبَبي

فَعَنْ قَليلٍ تَئِّنُّ الأَرْضُ مِنْ خَبَبي

إِلي المَعالي إِذَا ما ابْتَلَّتِ العُذُرُ

إِلي المَعالي إِذَا ما ابْتَلَّتِ العُذُرُ

So before long, the earth will groan beneath my trotting

So before long the land will grieve for my footsteps

toward lofty honors, when the bridle-straps are drenched.

To high places if pretexts are tested and proven.