لنا نفوس لنيل المجد عاشقة

والمجد يعشقها قِدماً من الأزل

We have souls enamored of attaining glory.

And glory has loved them of old, from all eternity.

ما إن تسلّت بما يجري لنا شرفا

وإن تسلت أسلناها على الأسل

They have never found solace in the honor that comes our way;

And should they find solace, we would spill them upon the spearheads.

ونحن والمجد إن شبّهت ألفتنا

كالنوم ليس له مأوى سوى المقل

And we and glory—if you would liken our bond—

Are like sleep, which has no refuge but the eyes.