يا راكِضاً في شَوطِ كُلِّ سِيادَةٍ

أَعيا تَرَسُّلُهُ الرِياحَ لَحاقا

O you who run in every race of glory

Tossed by the winds to catch up

مُتَيَقِّظاً تَندى حَواشي لَفظِهِ

سَلَساً وَيَلفَحُ فَهمُهُ إِحراقا

Awakening, the edges of his words glisten

Smooth, and his understanding scorches

ما حامِلٌ خُطَطَ المَهابَةِ خامِلٌ

ماقامَ في العَلياءِ يَنقُلُ ساقا

No carrier of grand plans stays dormant

No one standing loftily moves a leg

مُتَعَذِّبٌ مازالَ يَضرِبُ يَومَهُ

كَدّاً وَيُحنِقُ لَيلَهُ إِشفاقا

A tortured soul still beats his days

To sorrow, and anguishes his nights in pity

ما إِن يَسيرُ مَعَ الصَباحِ لِشَأنِهِ

حَتّى يَشُدَّ مَعَ النُفوسِ نِطاقا

No sooner does he walk in the morn for his quest

Than he ties up with souls a bond