سقاك الغيث يا باب الجزيره

فكم جازتك من حورا عطيره

The rain quenched you, O gate of the peninsula

So many fragrant houris have passed through you

تميل إذا مشت كالسروِ مرّت

عليه الريح في أرض مطيره

She sways as she walks like a lofty cypress

Blown by the wind in a rainy land

ويرجع كلّ ذي عين رآها

بكف عن تناولها قصيره

And whoever's eye has seen her

Restrains his hand from touching her briefly

إذا ما قال ذو طمع لمن ذا

تقول لمن دراهمهُ كثيره

Whenever the greedy one says to whoever:

“For whom are these many coins?”