يا شَرفَ الوَردِ وَيا فَخرهُ

إِذ شَبَّهوا فيهِ خُدودَ الحِسانْ

Oh you rose's noble one, pride of all,

When they compared in you, cheeks of the fair,

فَصَيَّروا الوَردَ عَلى ضَعفِهِ

لِلزَّهرِ سُلطاناً بِكُلِّ الزّمانْ

Made the rose, in its frailty supreme,

Over all blossoms, for all time to wear.