حَبَّذا الرِقَّةُ داراً وَبَلَد

بَلَدٌ ساكِنُهُ مِمَّن تَوَد

Grace made this land a home, a country

Whose people you’d be fond to see

ما رَأَينا بَلدَةً تَعدِلُها

لا وَلا أَخبَرَنا عَنها أَحَد

We've never known a place that equals it

Nor heard tell of its like, said he

إِنَّها بَرِّيَّةٌ بَحرِيَّةٌ

سورُها بَحرٌ وَسورٌ في الجدَد

It fronts the sea, in the rear a plain

Its walls are sea, in solid chains

تُسمَعُ الصُلصُلُ في أَشجارِها

هُدهُدَ البَرِّ وَمُكّاءً غَرِد

The partridge's call in the trees is heard

The moan of the dove, the thrush's strains

لَم تُضَمَّن بَلدَةٌ ما ضُمّنَت

مِن جَمالَ في قُرَيشٍ وَأَسَد

No town e'er contained what it contained

Of Quraysh's beauty and lion's pride