1. O solace of my eyes, may you dispel sorrow,
And live gloriously like a radiant morn,

2. My chosen son is not content with land alone,
Until he reaches sky’s celestial dome,

3. So he aspires to soar in space like Ibn Firnas,
Or sometimes to geometrize like Euclid,

4. If he seeks help from you to revive
A science that was nearly lost,

5. Especially from ones like you, do not delay,
And share with him all you have compassed.