Hadramout And wherever there is death,
A country without Al-Fala and Al-Fayafi
daddy, O’Brother, your father spelled,
The mother of Abu Khathami’ik, the cobbler
We are the ones who have learned in honor
in, So be more beautiful among the ten nobles
ancestors, if you had seen them, you would make it clear
You have a closeness to the ancestors
And if you criticize your Sheikh about them,
long surfing
He has no store but pig’s hair
In his people and the Sunnah of the Ashafi
Hadramawt and wherever Hadramout – the poet Al-Buhtari
