Arthur John Arberry Often I ve been off with the morn, the birds yet asleep in their nests,

My horse short-haired, outstripping the wild game, huge-bodied, F. E. Johnson Early in the morning, while the birds were still nesting, I mounted my steed. Well-bred was he, long-bodied, outstripping the wild beasts in speed,

Arthur John Arberry Charging, fleet-fleeing, head-foremost, headlong, all together The match of a rugged boulder hurled from on high by the torrent, F. E. Johnson Swift to attack, to flee, to turn, yet firm as a rock swept down by the torrent,

Arthur John Arberry A gay bay, sliding the saddle-felt from his back s thwart Just as a smooth pebble slides off the rain cascading. F. E. Johnson Bay-colored, and so smooth the saddle slips from him, as the rain from a smooth stone,

Arthur John Arberry Fiery he is, for all his leanness, and when his ardour boils in him, how he roars a bubbling cauldron isn t in it! F. E. Johnson Thin but full of life, fire boils within him like the snorting of a boiling kettle;

Arthur John Arberry Sweetly he flows, when the mares floundering wearily Kick up the dust where their hooves drag in the trampled track, F. E. Johnson He continues at full gallop when other horses are dragging their feet in the dust for weariness.

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The lightweight lad slips landward from his smooth back, He flings off the burnous of the hard, heavy rider. F. E. Johnson A boy would be blown from his back, and even the strong rider loses his garments.

Arthur John Arberry Very swift he is, like the toy spinner a boy will whirl Playing it with his nimble hands by the knotted thread. F. E. Johnson Fast is my steed as a top when a child has spun it well.

Arthur John Arberry His flanks are the flanks of a fawn, his legs like an ostrich s The springy trot of the wolf he has, the fox s gallop F. E. Johnson He has the flanks of a buck, the legs of an ostrich, and the gallop of a wolf.

Arthur John Arberry Sturdy his body look from behind, as he bars his leg s gap With a full tail, not askew, reaching almost to the ground F. E. Johnson From behind, his thick tail hides the space between his thighs, and almost sweeps the ground.

Arthur John Arberry His back, as he stands beside the tent, seems the pounding-slab Of a bride s perfumes, or the smooth stone a colocynth s broken on F. E. Johnson When he stands before the house, his back looks like the huge grinding-stone there

Arthur John Arberry The blood of the herd s leaders spatters his thrusting neck Like expressed tincture of henna reddening combed white locks F. E. Johnson The blood of many leaders of herds is in him, thick as the juice of henna in combed white hair.

Arthur John Arberry A flock presented itself to us, the cows among them Like Duwar virgins mantled in their long-trailing draperies F. E. Johnson As I rode him we saw a flock of wild sheep, the ewes like maidens in long-trailing robes;

Arthur John Arberry Turning to flee, they were beads of Yemen spaced with cowries Hung on a boy s neck, he nobly uncled in the clan F. E. Johnson They turned for flight, but already he had passed the leaders before they could scatter.

Arthur John Arberry My charger thrust me among the leaders, and way behind him Huddled the stragglers herded together, not scattering F. E. Johnson He outran a bull and a cow and killed them both, and they were made ready for cooking;

Arthur John Arberry At one bound he had taken a bull and a cow together Pouncing suddenly, and not a drop of sweat on his body. F. E. Johnson Yet he did not even sweat so as to need washing