أبى الله لا أن يكون لنا الأمرُ

God forbid that the command should not be ours... that the world should live through us and the epoch take pride in us,

That the days should serve us in what we desire... and time bow willingly to our reins,

That the necks of kings should bend to our might... and our mere reputation strike terror into them from afar.

Wherever we settle, security routs every calamity... while across all horizons our martial dread lingers.

Through our obedience to God, mankind has become obedient to us... so that no command of ours concerning them is disobeyed.

Our days in peace are clouds of bounty... and in war, clouds whose downpour is streaming blood.

They have executed their era's decree upon humanity... so half rejoice in them and half are aggrieved.

Among Muslim monarchs there is no holy warrior besides us... neither summer's heat nor winter's cold turns us back.

We have made holy war our sole concern and occupation... neither listening to song nor drinking wine has distracted us from it.

The blood of enemies is sweeter to us than pure wine... and the clash of straight swords sounds like flutes and lutes.

We seek them with the devotion of lovers though they are enemies... visiting them strips away our burdens of sin.

Our soft bedding is the saddle and our shirts are chainmail... while pitched pavilions serve as our royal palace.

You would see the earth like the horizon studded with stars... were the radiant stars not jealous of its glory.

The ambition of kings is for white and dark maidens like dolls... while our ambition is for flashing swords and brown lances.

Our blades have edges reddened with gore... while their hilts bloom green from our boundless generosity.

We march against the enemy with birds soaring above us... finding their sustenance in our foes while we reap victory.

There is a fierce might that melts stone with the heat of its fire... and a gentle grace that coaxes springs from rock.

An army which, when it meets the enemy, you would deem mountain lions... driving herds of gazelles and deer before them.

You see every brave knight in battle acting just like his arrow... piercing straight through, turned back by neither fear nor numbers.

They are lions made of shining blades and spears... possessing iron fangs and sharp talons in the fray.

They see eternal paradise in dying, so how must they meet an enemy... to whom the act of slaying itself is a long life.

When traced to their lineage, they are all sons of one father... yet their spear thrusts slant and their sword strikes cleave.

They reckon that disbelief is simply disobeying our commands... so to them our cattle are never branded with heresy.

We claim their vanguard and their allegiance... while from us they receive nobility and overflowing bounty.

Through us peace was confirmed and gained added glory... while disbelief was humbled after its pride.

We slew the Prince when he marched out in his ignorance... surrounded by his knights and massive military host.

None remained except those we took captive... and how could survival be for one whom notched blades have battered?

In our prison sits the son of Frankish royalty, the best of their kings... even if goodness and piety are foreign to them.

Just like our deeds against the land of those who met their doom... their knights slaughtered and left like butchered meat.

Ask the valley by Qalīs about them... where pools of their blood still linger to this day.

They spread out across it to beat back our advance... so the soil of Judgment Day is where they will finally be scattered.

And we captured Joscelin when he least expected... any sudden disaster to threaten his secure days.

The simpleton thought we would sell him back... for wealth, and how many a delusion destroys the fool.

When we swept through his realm and territories... leaving no wealth or border outpost left to plunder,

We applied kohl to his eyes, seeking divine reward for our treatment of him... and for such deeds is divine reward secured.

And we crushed Baldwin, leaving those we shattered... with no friend to look for nor any hope of mending.

The wide world closed in upon him in all its expanse... yet neither land could save him nor sea protect him.

His base soul and cunning lured him... into breaking his sacred oaths and betraying his trust.

His warhorses were once of many colors, but they returned... to us dyed reddish-brown from their own masters' blood.

He mistook our forbearance and patience for weakness... but true weakness is never what an ignorant fool commits.

When his error and straying persisted... and neither admonition nor warning could turn him from his folly,

We emerged against him like a lion leaving its thicket... whose habit is breaking prey and crushing bones.

We marched toward him when he shrank from meeting us... and he witnessed the wretchedness and misery of our might.

So he fled, racing our whistling arrows... while the thunder of our swords rang deafeningly in his ears.

He abandoned his knights and defenders to us... so half of them met slaughter and half became captives.

The reins of our horses never turn away from him... even if the soaring vulture carried him off into the sky's horizon.

Until we visit Joscelin in his shared captivity... plunged in profound darkness whose night knows no dawn.

And until we reclaim purified Jerusalem from their grip... and God's scripture is recited once more in the Dome of the Rock.

If towering fortresses lock their gates against us, we possess... the keys—white blades with red-stained edges.

When we set our sights on a land whose approaches defied kings... the rugged became smooth and the difficult easy.

And over it poured arrows and gleaming blades... while the thunder, lightning, and rain were the charge of prancing steeds.

Through us God restored the lands and secured... His servants, leaving no trace of fear or oppression.

We conquered Edessa when our enemies despoiled... its sanctuary and treachery served as their royal doom.

We made the necks of their knights the scabbards for our blades... and claimed their virgin fortresses in a maiden blow.

And the fortress of Aʻzaz was greeted by our armies... after glorious ancient emperors had failed to take it.

Its residents came forward with the keys in full submission... having journeyed a full month just to reach our gates.

Not every king is capable and filled with awe... nor does every seeker succeed in establishing his rule.

We turned toward the Lead Tower, which was... sluggish otherwise, but here lead rained down upon it.

Harim became a bone stuck in Antioch's throat... bringing constriction and panic to both it and its inhabitants.

And the fortress of Kafr Latha shrank from our approach... while its high peaks became mere nesting places for scavenging birds.

In the fortresses of Basuta and Qorqos, difficult terrain... humbled itself before us, led by patient endurance.

Apamea and al-Bara were rescued for us... by a steadfast resolve that bypassed every high mountain and valley.

The fortress of Sarfud and Anab opened easily before us... turning hardship into effortless ease.

In Tall ʻAmmar, Tall Khalid, and the fortress of Salqeen... the kingdom found a true royal palace.

What a fortress Rawandan is—unassailable... had brute compulsion not made its capture easy.

How many such citadels, villages, and cultivated fields... too numerous for any census to encompass, have fallen to us.

When we wrested them back from the infidels by force... leaving no trace of them remaining in those regions,

We restored their ancestral homes and properties to the locals... so poverty vanished from among them.

They returned after years of despair and destitution... having suffered deeply from the misery of loss.

Time passed while infidelity ruled over them... and one generation succeeded another in exile.

So they gained prosperity and wealth upon their return... just as we gained divine reward and gratitude.

We lifted commercial taxes from every single town... so traveling merchants rejoice in their trade.

Our justice turned the horizons into a protected sanctuary... where even the ruffled desert grouse need fear no falcon.

How can kings aspire to rival us for loftiness... when their resolve is mere whispered words while our blows are struck in the open?

If they promise military expeditions in verse, behold... the heads of their enemies strewn about by our swords.

We will meet our foes with burnished blades... whose gift to them is honed by further slaughter.

Our boastful words do not stem from vanity, but we grieve... whenever our campaigns fail to earn divine reward.

Our treasuries are full, yet they are not our prepared hoard... for divine reward is our only true treasure.

We hold a sovereignty that no other monarch's hand has grasped... untouched by royal haughtiness or arrogance.

We are kings of might and generosity who walk humbly... carrying no airs of snobbery or pride.

We have turned our backs on the world despite its fierce allure... granting it our detachment while withholding our embrace.

The finest thing in this world is the asceticism of one who has the power to take it... yet lets neither kingship nor wealth tempt him.

Were it not for God's questioning us regarding the flock... whom we guarded closely when the gathering for judgment comes,

We would have turned away from the world and told it to begone... maintaining our estrangement from it for the rest of our days.

What good is a kingdom for which you will be held accountable... followed only by death and the grave?