1. A heart churned by passion,
And tears streaming down,

2. And eyelids that have sworn,
Never to be closed by sleep,

3. Yearning for the one whose face,
Is dawn though its form is darkness,

4. A moon that started my resurrection,
The cause of my bending and standing tall.

5. Turn away, Reem Saloui, from passion,
And its consummation which cannot be wished for,

6. Do not blame me for my love of him,
Foolishly, and blame does no good,

7. Alas! His eyes will never
Awaken, though their slumber is tumultuous,

8. Sweet of features and glance,
Smooth cheeked, his beauty is perfection,

9. Like the full moon is to me his visage,
When it is full, and his is complete,

10. The year of union in his nearness,
A day, and a day, God is Eternal,

11. I grew up in my love for him,
And passion is a growing boy,

12. Oh cupbearer, bring to his eyelids,
That which cures their sickness,

13. Why is your cheek aflame?
It kindles while my heart is in turmoil,

14. So I head to the shrines and dwellings,
Where my peace, Salma, has lodged,

15. I rave with the mention of her,
And so is the enamored raving one,

16. I swore by the Sacred House,
To which the holy pilgrims flock,

17. And what it contains,
A gathering, and what the shrine contains,

18. I have clung to the cord,
Of the highest, so I cannot be blamed,

19. A king whose worries,
Became lofty, so he is the highest,

20. When Abu Al-Fadl Al-Karim protects you,
My greetings of peace to you,

21. Who has granted me the means of my state,
Which she created sufficient,

22. She shook with generosity and compassion for me,
So from me spread greetings of peace,

23. The Euphrates river of overflowing generosity,
With pilgrims crowding its banks,

24. I thanked its acts of highness,
In its presence I became elevated and protected,

25. And I see the spark of his generosity,
Quenching the thirst of the eras,

26. It has made me covet,
His magnificent ambitions,

27. It is the living, life-giving, healing,
In times of calamity, the certain death,

28. With sweet dispositions,
Like a meadow, its pasture brought joy,

29. I made it high,
Thus its hands are exalted,

30. My lord Majd Al-Din,
Whose resolve is the sharp sword,

31. O guardian of the refugees whom,
Since you have ruled, no lament was heard,

32. Your aid against adversity,
Is unmatched, no clouds can compete,

33. And your sweetness has excelled,
Over its composure Syria,

34. So it has become, going and returning,
Aligned with the days of your eternal rule.