لِلّهِ عودٌ إِذا أَوتارُهُ اِصطَفَّت

مِن أَجلِها كُل عرقٍ راحَ مصطَفِقا

The lute of God, when its strings are rightly strung

For it each vein has throbbed with fervent love

كَأَنَّها فَوقَهُ أَوتارُ حُنجَرةٍ

فَلَو أَصابَ فَماً في جَوفِهِ نَطَقا

As though above the lute were vocal chords

That, through its inner heart, would speak if touched