1. لي في عُلاكَ دَواوينٌ مُخَلَّدَةٌ

    تَبقى وَتُبقيكَ مَمدوحاً وَتُبقيني

    I have immortal collections of verse in praise of your eminence.

    They endure, keeping you praised and preserving me.

  2. وَصِرتَ صاحِبَ ديوانِ العَطاءِ فَما

    تُملي بِهِ أَيدِيَ المُعطينَ يُمليني

    And you have become master of the register of gifts; so whatever

    You dictate there to the givers’ hands dictates my verse to me.

  3. وَالشِعرُ فيكَ بِوَزنِ الشِعرِ أَحصُرُهُ

    وَالجودُ مِنكَ بِلا حَصرِ المَوازينِ

    I confine my verse about you within poetic meter,

    But your generosity cannot be bounded by scales.

  4. وَكَيفَ أَحسُبُ ما تُعطي العُفاةَ وَما

    حَسَبتُ بَعضَ الَّذي ما زِلتَ تُعطيني

    And how can I count what you give those seeking bounty, when I have not

    Counted even part of what you continue to give me?

  5. الكُتبُ تَشكُرُهُ عَنّا وَلا عَجَبٌ

    ما تُشكَرُ السُحبُ إِلّا بِالبَساتينِ

    The books thank him on our behalf—and no wonder:

    Clouds are thanked only through gardens.