وَما رَوضَةٌ علوِيَّةٌ أَسدِيَّةٌ

مُنَمنَمَةٌ زَهراءُ ذاتُ ثَرىً جَعدِ

No garden on high to Asad belongs is there,

With flowers besprent and perfumed air,

سَقاها النَّدى في غَفلَة الدَهرِ نَوءَها

فَنُوّارُها يَهتَزُّ كَالكَوكَبِ السَعدِ

That the night-rain in oblivion's hour

Watered not, while the planet of good fortune there

بِأَحسَن مِن حرٍّ تَضَمَّنَ حاجَةً

لِحرٍّ فَأَوفى بِالنَجاحِ وَبِالرِفدِ

Moved not in Libra, happiest of the spheres,

With a fairer boon, or more abounding tide.