وَكانَت تَطيرُ الشَولُ عرفانَ صَوتِهِ

وَكانَت تَطيرُ الشَولُ عرفانَ صَوتِهِ

وَلَم تُمسِ إِلّا وَهيَ خائِفَةُ العُقرِ

وَلَم تُمسِ إِلّا وَهيَ خائِفَةُ العُقرِ

And the dry she-camels would take flight on recognizing his voice,

The crane flies, recognizing his voice,

And they never reached evening without fearing slaughter.

Yet it touches down only timorously and shyly.