shivering with longing thunder,
tail dredge, true promise
lacrimal, unfounded,
It has a breeze like a rose
A roar like a lion’s roar,
And the lightning flashed like the swords of India
The wind of youth came from Najd,
scattered like a scattering knot
So the land rejoiced with a rich life,
From the lights of the Lord in the cold
as if they had betrayed her, in the ravine,
playing with dice
That Irtijaz with nostalgia for thunder – the poet Al-Buhtari
