إِنَّ لِلجَنَّةِ في الأَندَلُسِ

إِنَّ لِلجَنَّةِ في الأَندَلُسِ

مُجتَلى حُسنٍ وَرَيّا نَفَسِ

مُجتَلى حُسنٍ وَرَيّا نَفَسِ

Indeed, Paradise has in al-Andalus

In Andalusia there lies a garden

a vision of beauty and sweet-scented breath.

Of beauty and sweet-scented air,

فَسَنا صُبحَتِها مِن شَنَبٍ

فَسَنا صُبحَتِها مِن شَنَبٍ

وَدُجى ظُلمَتِها مِن لَعَسِ

وَدُجى ظُلمَتِها مِن لَعَسِ

So its morning's radiance comes from gleaming teeth,

Its morning is of chamomile,

and its night-dark gloom from dusky lips.

Its night of bastard saffron.

فَإِذا ما هَبَّتِ الريحُ صَبّاً

فَإِذا ما هَبَّتِ الريحُ صَبّاً

صِحتُ وا شَوقي إِلى الأَندَلُسِ

صِحتُ وا شَوقي إِلى الأَندَلُسِ

And whenever the wind blows with longing,

When the wind blows from the north,

I cry out, 'Ah, my longing for al-Andalus!'

My longing for Andalusia rises high.