أَلَمَّ خَيالٌ مِنكِ يا أُمَّ غالِبِ

A phantom of you has come in the night, O Umm Ghalib, / So may you be greeted from afar by an estranged lover.

You remained a persistent sorrow to me, and I remained targeted / By an exhausting grief that overcame me upon your parting.

Whatever I forget, I will never forget your turning toward us at mid-morning / Among the radiant, tall, and slender women.

She appeared to us, slender-waisted, with a flat belly, / Fine-flanked, and full in her lower body.

A maiden, bright-faced, whose youth is supple, / Like the mid-morning sun breaking through the clouds.

When the clouds enveloped her and around her / One brow peeked out while she withheld the other.

She is my true passion, my deep heartache, and my desire; / How lovely she is as a distant female companion!

May God not distance youth and the memory of it, / And the love of pure young maidens with swelling breasts.

And may whatever I loved of our reproaches grow sweeter, / And blessings upon the two close companions.

Though I cannot forget them, I am one who remembers / The tragedy of a swift, noble man of high station.

He sought closeness to God through sincere piety, / And piety for Him is the best earnings an earner can acquire.

He renounced the world and remained untainted by it, / Repenting to God of the highest ranks.

He forsook the world and said, 'I have cast it aside; / I desire no part of it as long as I live.'

I care nothing for what men magnify and covet, / Chasing after worldly gains with eager desire.

So he marched on toward al-Thawiyya, journeying / To Ibn Ziyad amid dense, swarming crowds.

Led by men who are models of God-consciousness and reason, / Bold, noble knights, masters of high repute.

They departed, abandoning the flawed counsel of Ibn Talha, / And refused to answer the calling emir.

They marched forth, some seeking pure devotion, / Others repenting deeply for what they dragged into yesterday.

At Ayn al-Warda they met the advancing army, / And struck them down with sharp, flashing blades.

Yemeni swords that severed hands, and at times / Met by lean, noble, tightly-girth warhorses.

Then a host rushed upon them from Syria afterward, / Crowds like ocean waves surging from every side.

They did not cease until their leaders were utterly destroyed, / Leaving no survivors among them save scattered groups.

The men of steadfastness were left slain on the earth, / Tossed by the east wind and the southern gales.

The Khuz'i chieftain was left laid out upon the ground, / As though he had never fought or waged war once.

And the head of the Banu Shamkh, the champion of his people, / The Shanu'ite, and the Tamimi who guided the battalions.

And Amr ibn Bishr, al-Walid, and Khalid, / And Zayd ibn Bakr, and al-Khulays ibn Ghalib.

Every courageous warrior from Hamdan struck hard; / When pressed into battle, the noble earner never flinched.

From every tribe their leader was struck down, / Every man of honor standing on the shining peak of glory.

Did they refuse anything save skull-splitting blows, / And unerring thrusts with the tips of lances?

Truly Sa'id, on the day he rouses Amir, / Is braver than a lion springing from its thicket.

O best of armies for Iraq and its people, / May you be watered by every dark, pouring raincloud!

May our horsemen and defenders never be forgotten, / When the flashing swords reveal the wrists of the maidens!

If they are killed, then death is the most noble end, / And every youth must one day meet his fate.

They were not slain until they roused a band, / Acting like fierce, striking lions guarding their den.