أَيا رامِياً يُصمي فُؤادَ مَرامِهِ

تُرَبّي عِداهُ ريشَها لِسِهامِهِ

O archer who pierces the very heart of his aim,

Whose foes rear the feathers to fletch his own arrows.

أَسيرُ إِلى إِقطاعِهِ في ثِيابِهِ

عَلى طِرفِهِ مِن دارِهِ بِحُسامِهِ

I journey to his fiefdom, clad in his robes,

Upon his steed, from his dwelling, bearing his blade.

وَما مَطَرَتنيهِ مِنَ البيضِ وَالقَنا

وَرومِ العِبِدّى هاطِلاتُ غَمامِهِ

It was not the rain of swords and spears that showered me,

Nor the campaign of ‘Abiddā, but the torrents of his clouds.

فَتىً يَهَبُ الإِقليمَ بِالمالِ وَالقُرى

وَمَن فيهِ مِن فُرسانِهِ وَكِرامِهِ

A hero who bestows a province, with its wealth and towns,

Along with all within it—its knights and its nobles.

وَيَجعَلُ ما خُوِّلتُهُ مِن نَوالِهِ

جَزاءً لِما خُوِّلتُهُ مِن كَلامِهِ

He makes the bounty I have been granted from his hand

A reward for the eloquence I have been granted by his speech.

فَلا زالَتِ الشَمسُ الَّتي في سَمائِهِ

مُطالِعَةَ الشَمسِ الَّتي في لِثامِهِ

So may the sun that climbs within his sky never cease

To gaze upon the sun that shines from beneath his veil.

وَلا زالَ تَجتازُ البُدورُ بِوَجهِهِ

تَعَجَّبُ مِن نُقصانِها وَتَمامِهِ

And may the full moons forever pass before his face,

Marveling at their own waning, and his perfection.