I witnessed the captives on the day the house of Muḥarriq was taken,
and my span of years reached the thunderous cry of God in al-Ḥijr.
Never have I seen any king among mankind—
nor any commoner—save that he proceeds to death and the grave.
So perhaps the One who laid low Thamūd and Jurhum
will yet grant me descendants that will endure to the end of time—
children in whom the eyes of the line of ʿAmr ibn ʿĀmir
will find coolness when the herald calls to seek revenge.
If the passing days have not yet worn away my vigor
and have only sprinkled my head with gray—for gray comes with age—
then surely we have a Lord, exalted above His Throne,
all-knowing of whatever comes of good or evil.
Has it not reached my people that God has a summons
by which the folk of felicity and righteousness shall prevail?
When the Envoy from the descendants of Ghalib is raised up in Mecca,
between Mecca and al-Ḥijr,
then seek to grant him victory in your land, O sons of ʿĀmir,
for true happiness lies in giving him aid.
The narrator said: He finished these words and passed away that very hour.