رب روضٍ خِلتُ آذر
يُونَه لَّما تُوقد
Lord of a meadow whose flowers were aflame
With jonquils when kindled to light,
ذهَبَاً أشعَل مسكاً
في كوَانِين زَبَرجَد
Gold it had fired and amber secreted
In crannies of chrysolite.
رب روضٍ خِلتُ آذر
يُونَه لَّما تُوقد
Lord of a meadow whose flowers were aflame
With jonquils when kindled to light,
ذهَبَاً أشعَل مسكاً
في كوَانِين زَبَرجَد
Gold it had fired and amber secreted
In crannies of chrysolite.