My gray steed fell dead as he leaped.  O friends,
  After my love, he’s gone and left me, too. 
  My charger, ’mid these hills, was of all steeds
  The fleetest, and in fiercest war’s attack
  All saw him at the head of the platoon. 
  What prodigies he wrought in war’s red field! 
  He showed himself ahead of all his peers. 
  A blood-mare was his mother.  He excelled
  In all the contests ’twixt the wandering camps;
  I tourneyed with him careless of my fate. 
  When just a month had passed I lost the steed. 
  Hyzyya first, and then this noble horse. 
  He did not long survive my well-beloved. 
  They both are gone, leaving their last farewells. 
  O grief! my charger’s reins have fallen down. 
  God made my life a death, in leaving me
  Behind.  For them I die.  Oh, cruel hurt! 
  I weep for this just as a lover weeps. 
  Each day my heart burns fiercer, and my joy
  Has fled away.  Now tell me, O my eyes,
  Why shed so many tears?  Beyond a doubt
  The pleasures of the world will capture you. 
  And will you grant no mercy?  My sad soul
  But sees its torments grow.  My pretty one,
  With lashes black, who was my heart’s delight,
  Now sleeps beneath the sod.  I do but weep
  And my head whitens for the beauteous one,
  With pearly teeth.  My eyes no longer can
  Endure the separation from their friend.

  The sun that lights us to the zenith climbs,
  Then gains the west.  It disappears from sight
  When it has gained the summit of the vault
  Celestial.  And the moon, which comes and shines
  At Ramadan, beholds the hour approach
  Of sleep, and says farewell to all the world. 
  To these would I compare the lovely queen
  Of all this age, the daughter of Ahmed,
  Descendant of a race illustrious,
  The daughter of Donaonda.

          Such is
  The will of God, all-powerful Lord of men. 
  The Lord hath shown his will and borne away
  Hyzyya.  Grant me patience, O my Lord! 
  My heart dies of its hurt.  Hyzyya’s love
  Did tear it from me when she left the earth.

  She’s worth a hundred steeds of noble race,
  A thousand camels, and a grove of palms
  In Zyban.  Yes, all Djryd is she worth,
  From near to far.  The country of the blacks,
  Haoussa and its people is she worth,
  Arabians of Tell and dry Sahara,
  And the encampments of the tribes, as far
  As caravans can reach by all the ways,
  All nomads and all travellers, she’s worth,
  And those who settle down as citizens. 
  The treasurer of all riches is she worth,
  My black-eyed beauty.  And if thou dost think
  This all too small, add all the cities’ folk. 
  She’s worth all flocks and nicely chisel’d gold,
  She’s worth the palms of Dra and Chaouyya;
  All that the sea contains, my love is worth,
  The fields and cities from beyond Djebel