رَمسٌ لهيفا مِن بَني الشّدياقِ قَد

زارَتهُ عَن كَثَبٍ فَحَقَّ مَزارُها

A painting of the gentle Mayya of the Shdayaqs

Who often visited him, so his shrine is true

تَرَكَت لابراهيمَ داغرَ بعلَها

زَفَراتِ حُزنٍ لا يَخِفُّ أُوارُها

She left for Ibrahim her husband, sighs of grief

Whose sorrow cannot be hidden in secret

وَلَقَد مَضَت نَحوَ الإِلَه وَعِندَنا

ما زالَ يقرن بِالثَنا تَذكارَها

And she went towards God, and with us remains

What continues to pair her name with praise

فَأَتى مُؤرِّخُها يُسطِّر قائِلاً

بُشرى لِنَفسٍ في السَماءِ قَرارُها

So her chronicler came to write saying

Good news, a soul has rest in heaven