She treats her young harshly,1 as if they were not hers; she cares not that her labor was in vain,
for God did not endow her with wisdom or give her a share of good sense.218
Yet when she spreads her feathers to run, she laughs3 at horse and rider.
"Do you give the horse his strength4 or clothe his neck with a flowing mane?
Do you make him leap like a locust,5 striking terror6 with his proud snorting?721
He paws fiercely, rejoicing in his strength,8 and charges into the fray.922
He laughs10 at fear, afraid of nothing; he does not shy away from the sword.
The quiver11 rattles against his side, along with the flashing spear12 and lance.
In frenzied excitement he eats up the ground; he cannot stand still when the trumpet sounds.1325
At the blast of the trumpet14 he snorts, 'Aha!' He catches the scent of battle from afar, the shout of commanders and the battle cry.1526
"Does the hawk take flight by your wisdom and spread his wings toward the south?16