لَهُ الحَمدُ مِن أَموالِهِ وَلَنا الغِنى

وَلَيسَ عَلَينا ما يَنوبُ مِنَ الدَهرِ

The praise is his for his wealth, and ours the riches,

No harm can touch us from the whims of fate.

إِذا ما أَتاهُ السائِلونَ تَوَقَّدَت

عَلَيهِ مَصابيحُ الطَلاقَةِ وَالبِشرِ

When suppliants come his lamps of bounty glisten,

With welcome smiles that banish fear and hate.

لَهُ في ذَوي المَعروفِ نُعمى كَأَنَّها

مَواقِعُ ماءِ المُزنِ في البَلَدِ القَفرِ

Among the worthy his virtue is resplendent,

As rain that falls on deserts desolate.