وَما مُسبَطِرٌّ ماؤُهُ مُتَدَفِّقٌ

وَما مُسبَطِرٌّ ماؤُهُ مُتَدَفِّقٌ

مِنَ الظَهرِ يَأتي غَيرَ زورٍ وَلا كَذِب

مِنَ الظَهرِ يَأتي غَيرَ زورٍ وَلا كَذِب

And what is the outstretched thing whose water gushes forth,

Its flowing waters are not mere fiction or lies

Coming from the back, with neither falsehood nor lie?

Gushing forth from the rock, pure and clean

يَمُجُّ بِما مِنهُ الخَليقَةُ كُلُّها

يَمُجُّ بِما مِنهُ الخَليقَةُ كُلُّها

وَلا روحَ فيهِ إِنَّ هذا هوَ العَجَب

وَلا روحَ فيهِ إِنَّ هذا هوَ العَجَب

It spews forth that from which all creation springs,

Life springs from it, the whole of creation

Yet has no soul within it—this indeed is the wonder.

Yet no soul dwells within, a wonder indeed