But they are as rare as true friends,
And when they die the very saddle sheds tears.
In the race-course of valour
May Allah bless the noble courser!
His chest is of steel, and his flanks of iron:
He loves naught but rapine, glory, and the combat;
He cherishes his master and his family,
And when he gallops, he puts the thunder to shame.
He passes, look at him: he is already out of sight;
Women, grudge him not the milk of our she-camels.