دِمَشق بِها أَضحى رِياض نَوادر

دِمَشق بِها أَضحى رِياض نَوادر

بِها يَنجَلي عَن قَلب ناظِرِها الهَمُّ

بِها يَنجَلي عَن قَلب ناظِرِها الهَمُّ

Damascus—within her, gardens have become rare wonders.

Damascus has become gardens of wonders,

In her, worry lifts from the heart of whoever beholds her.

In it the worries lift from the heart of its viewer,

عَلى نَفسِهِ فَليَبكِ مَن ضاعَ عُمرَهُ

عَلى نَفسِهِ فَليَبكِ مَن ضاعَ عُمرَهُ

وَلَيسَ لَهُ مِنها نَصيب وَلا سَهمُ

وَلَيسَ لَهُ مِنها نَصيب وَلا سَهمُ

Let him whose lifetime has been wasted weep for himself,

So let him who has wasted his life weep for himself,

And who has no portion of her, nor any share.

For he has no share of it or portion.