لَو يَدُبُّ الحَوليُّ مِن وَلَدِ

لَو يَدُبُّ الحَوليُّ مِن وَلَدِ

الذّرِّ عَلَيها لأَندَبَتها الكُلومُ

الذّرِّ عَلَيها لأَندَبَتها الكُلومُ

If a yearling were to crawl—one of the offspring

If only a yearling gazelle wandered from her young,

of tiny ants—upon her, wounds would leave her scarred.

The thistles would mourn for her.