CEFR B2 Level
Understand the main ideas of complex text on both concrete and abstract topics.
In the wide deserts of ancient Arabia, where life was hard and the sun spared no one, a man named Hatim Al-Tai became famous—not for power or wealth, but for something rarer: pure generosity.
His name echoed across the land as the kindest and most giving man of his time. Travelers told stories of his open tent, his warm fire, and his willingness to feed strangers even when he barely had enough for himself.
But one story, more than any other, shows the depth of Hatim’s noble heart.
It was during a terrible year—a year of famine. No rain had fallen, the crops had failed, and even the animals were dying. People had nothing left to eat, and hope was as dry as the land beneath their feet.
That night, Hatim sat in his quiet tent with his wife, Nawwar, and three hungry children, Abdullah, Adi, and Sanana. Their small bodies shook with cold and hunger, and their soft cries filled the darkness.
The mother tried to calm them, and eventually, the children fell asleep, exhausted from their pain.
Hatim’s heart was heavy. He had nothing left in his home—not even a piece of bread. Still, he spoke softly to his wife, trying to comfort her. But she knew her husband well. She could tell he had something in mind. To stop him from worrying about her, she closed her eyes and pretended to sleep.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the tent’s flap. A voice whispered in the darkness.
“O Abu Adi, it’s me—your neighbor. My children are crying like wolves from hunger. I have no food and no one else to ask.”
Hatim stood up at once and said with deep kindness:
“Bring them to me. May God provide for you and them.”
Soon, the woman arrived, holding two children in her arms while four others followed behind. They were thin and tired, like chicks searching for their mother’s wing.
Hatim welcomed them, but inside, he knew the truth: he had no food to give them.
No food—except for his beloved horse.
Hatim walked outside and looked at the proud animal tied beside the tent. It was his last possession. A symbol of freedom, strength, and status. A horse like that could feed his family for days—or buy safety if sold.
But Hatim didn't think twice.
He patted the horse gently and whispered, “Forgive me.” Then he drew his knife and sacrificed the horse.
He handed the meat to the woman and said:
“Feed your children.”
His wife and children joined the others in preparing the food, and the smell of roasting meat filled the cold desert air.
But Hatim himself did not eat a single bite.
Instead, he went from tent to tent, calling his neighbors:
“Come, my friends, light your fires. There is food tonight. Let no one sleep hungry.”
And they came. The hungry, the weak, the desperate. They ate until they were full.
When morning arrived, nothing was left of the horse—not the meat, not the skin—only bones and hooves remained.
Hatim stood at a distance, wrapped in his cloak, watching his people eat with joy. He was hungry, but his heart was full.
This is not just a story about generosity. It is a story about choosing others over oneself—about giving when it hurts, and about love that extends beyond the family, beyond borders.
Hatim Al-Tai became a legend, not because he gave when he was rich, but because he gave when he had nothing.
And that, dear reader, is the kind of legacy that lives forever.
Lyrics and Concept by Imed Sdiri
[Intro]
In ancient sands where the sun burned bright,
Where people stood firm through heat and night,
Among the brave, among the wise,
One name rose strong—Hatim Al-Tai.
[Verse 1]
In a land where sharing was a way of life,
Where honor stood through joy and strife,
They knew the road was hard and long,
So they walked it proud, together strong.
Among them lived a man well known,
For open hands and an open home,
Not above them, not apart,
But first in giving, first in heart.
[Pre-Chorus]
When the test came hard and days ran dry,
He showed how high a soul can rise.
[Chorus]
Give — when the road is dry and long,
Give — with a steady heart and strong,
What we share is what remains,
That’s the wealth no drought can drain.
[Verse 2]
The year grew harsh, the rain held back,
The fields were thin, the stores were cracked,
Yet faith still lived in every tent,
In every prayer, in each intent.
At home, his children felt the strain,
Small shoulders learning patient pain,
Hatim stood calm, his path was clear,
Faith in Allah, no trace of fear.
[Pre-Chorus]
When giving calls, the brave reply.
[Chorus]
Give — when the road is dry and long,
Give — with a steady heart and strong,
What we share is what remains,
That’s the wealth no drought can drain.
[Bridge]
A neighbor came with honest voice:
“My children cry — I have no choice.”
Hatim replied without delay:
“Bring them here — Allah will make a way.”
[Verse 3]
Outside stood all he still possessed,
A noble horse, his final rest,
No drama played, no word was said,
For living souls are daily bread.
For God, for life, for human need,
He chose the higher, braver deed,
The fire rose, the night grew bright,
And mercy moved with steady light.
[Chorus]
Give — even when it costs you dear,
Give — without doubt, without fear,
Honor lives in what we do,
In hands that share, in hearts that knew.
[Verse]
The fires were lit, the food was shared,
With thanks and care, with hearts prepared,
Hatim called out, voice strong and clear:
“No one sleeps hungry while I’m here!”
They ate as dawn began to rise,
A night of truth before their eyes,
He ate no bite, yet stood complete,
A full soul dancing on tired feet.
[Outro]
He gave as others hoped they could,
Among the just, among the good,
Not set apart, not standing tall—
But showing what lifts us all.
[Final Chorus]
Give — when the road is dry and long,
Give — with a steady heart and strong,
What we share is what remains,
That’s the wealth no drought can drain.