يَدٌ لَكَ عِنْدِي لا تُؤَدّى حُقُوقُها

يَدٌ لَكَ عِنْدِي لا تُؤَدّى حُقُوقُها

بِشَكْرٍ وَأَي الشُّكْرِ مِنِّي يُطِيقُها

بِشَكْرٍ وَأَي الشُّكْرِ مِنِّي يُطِيقُها

You have done me a kindness whose due cannot be repaid

A hand of yours I have that can never repay

By gratitude—and what gratitude of mine could do it justice?

What it owes, though my thanks be unending;

سَماحٌ وَبِشْرٌ كَالسَّحائِبِ ثَرَّةً

سَماحٌ وَبِشْرٌ كَالسَّحائِبِ ثَرَّةً

تَوالى حَياها وَاسْتَطارَتْ بُرُوقُها

تَوالى حَياها وَاسْتَطارَتْ بُرُوقُها

Generosity and good cheer, like rain-laden clouds,

Kindness and joy like thick clouds that display

Whose rains came in succession and whose lightning flashed far and wide.

Welcome, as their first drops to earth they are sending;

وَكَمْ كُرْبَةٍ نادَيْتُ جُودَكَ عِنْدها

وَكَمْ كُرْبَةٍ نادَيْتُ جُودَكَ عِنْدها

فَما رامنِي حَتّى تَفَرَّجَ ضِيقُها

فَما رامنِي حَتّى تَفَرَّجَ ضِيقُها

And in how many a distress I called upon your generosity,

Whenever misfortune too heavy would lay

And it did not leave me until that anguish eased.

Its load upon me, I called, comprehending

وَمَكْرَمَةٍ وَالَيْتَها وَصَنيعَةٍ

وَمَكْرَمَةٍ وَالَيْتَها وَصَنيعَةٍ

زَكَتْ لَكَ عِنْدِي حِدْثُها وَعَتِيقُها

زَكَتْ لَكَ عِنْدِي حِدْثُها وَعَتِيقُها

And many a noble favor you bestowed in succession, and a kindness—

That soon as I called it would vanish away;

Their new and old alike have grown in my esteem for you.

And gifts I recall, and remember befriending;

مَناقِبُ إِنْ تُنْسَبْ فَأَنْتَ لَها أَبٌ

مَناقِبُ إِنْ تُنْسَبْ فَأَنْتَ لَها أَبٌ

وَعَليْاءُ إِنْ عُدَّتْ فَأَنْتَ شَقِيقُها

وَعَليْاءُ إِنْ عُدَّتْ فَأَنْتَ شَقِيقُها

Virtues: if their lineage is traced, you are their father;

Noble traits, if rehearsed, you at once claim as kin,

And lofty glory: if it is reckoned, you are its full brother.

And nobleness itself finds in you its true brother;

وَوَلَّيْتَها نَفْساً لَدَيْكَ كَرِيمَةً

وَوَلَّيْتَها نَفْساً لَدَيْكَ كَرِيمَةً

تَبِيتُ أَغارِيدُ السَّماحِ تَشُوقُها

تَبِيتُ أَغارِيدُ السَّماحِ تَشُوقُها

And you entrusted them with a soul held dear by you,

You gave it a soul that would banish all sin,

All night, the songs of generosity stir its longing.

A soul that the song-birds of kindness call mother;