ألا يا أيُّها البَيتُ المُعَلَّى
عَلى كِيوانَ في العِزِّ المَكينِ
O you house, raised on high,
O lofty house upon Kīwān’s hill
above Saturn, firm in glory—
In glory and in power so strong and still
أتَدري ما أحَطتَ به وماذا اش
تَملتَ عَلَيهِ من بَنجُوتَكينِ
do you know what you have enclosed, and what
Do you know whose shade beneath your expanse
you encompass of Banjūtakin?
Has wrapped about and whom your towers fill
لقَد طافَت بكَ الأيَّام سَعياً
طَوافَ المُستَجير المُستَكِينِ
The days have circled you in eager haste,
The days have circled you, to and fro,
like a humbled seeker of refuge circling a sanctuary.
As circles the protected, humble, low.
فَما أَدري أمِن شَرفٍ ومجدٍ
بَناكَ اللَّهُ أم حَجَرٍ وطِينِ
I cannot tell: was it of honor and glory
I know not if for glory and renown
that God built you, or of stone and clay?
God built you up or brick and mud and stone.
Sol 5.6