1. Is it the glow of domes, O mother of fate the weary,
That which drew me to you, O Yathrib,

2. So I came strutting in misery, escorted
Between the ghosts of bewilderment a procession,

3. Sighs wander within my bosom,
And the alphabet in my blood laments,

4. And embryos of dreams when they shake
Your voice rattles its terrified spirit.

5. Do you see the Yathribi palm trees have they not remained
Those that give birth to pride and beget,

6. Or has the arrow of time infected it
With a wound which the oppressed were stained,

7. And they came to you where manliness has not ceased
Its history with the blood of dignity flames,

8. Seeking the hope which
With its wounds fertility was blessed.

9. O goodness of illuminated victory what twisted
Its heroes across the obscure wilderness,

10. Thus the sky pours in their struggles
The dreams of prophecy raging and blazing

11. Until, when they refined your soil and gave light
From what scattered of its grey hair,

12. They stood at the edge of spears as minarets
Extending on life's horizon blossoming.

13. O goodness of victory which in its course
Its youth perishes the aging struggle,

14. And the message of conquest breathed
In which heaven and Arab blended,

15. Equip yourself as valor’s arm rises
From it and purpose devises a shoulder,

16. And since you stormed into life in the steps
Of Taha who pulls you to prosperity and attracts,

17. Self-sacrifice sharpened by you and set forth
To water it from the ink of eternity and write,

18. Until when the day of brotherhood chipped
Its rings and scorpion spread over it,

19. Your ferocious freed forgot their cry
And in your blood the grey neighing collapsed,

20. And you remained for generations a spring of youth
No longer does its abundance rage and foam,

21. And the ages continue to see you, their awe
Opened with your glorious past adorned,

22. I smuggled it as a ghost in the memory of longing
It thrives, alas the conquests smuggled,

23. The progeny of dust on it claimed a thousand tribes
Who competed for its shine and looting,

24. And your hands no sun defeats in them
The storm of the ignorant era so prevails,

25. Stretch them to the past and chain me
The day of brotherhood and collect what spills,

26. And embrace our souls in its purity
The pulse of our entrenched life shakes,

27. So we will melt the distant horizon on the fervor
Of our will until the planet melts,

28. And we will sweep away history of what the
Wolves propped and what the foxes transmitted,

29. And we will peel the truth wrapped in darkness
Until its flaming kernel shines,

30. And we will go back to plucking the stars, and enough for us
What we hope that your ship is vessel.