يَا مَنْ بِهِ شَرُفَتْ عَلَى الْبُلْدَانِ تِطْ

وَانٌ الْغَرَّا بِلاَ بُهْتَانِ

O you by whom the lands were ennobled

O you through whom, above all other lands, is honored Tét-

With a radiance devoid of pretense,

-ouan the radiant, without a single doubt,

وَتَأَرَّجَتْ أَرْجَاؤُهَا مِنْ نَشْرِهِ

وَغَدَا لِطِرْسِ النُّبْلِ كَالْعُنْوَانِ

And whose outskirts were perfumed by his fragrance

And its environs grew fragrant from his scent,

And his chivalry became like a banner,

And who became like the heading on the scroll of nobility.

أَنْجِزْ أَبَا يَعْقُوبَ فِي إِرْسَالِ مَا

هِمْنَا بِهِ مِنْ زَهْرَةِ الْبُسْتَانِ

Fulfill for Abu Ya'qub what we intended

Fulfill your promise, Abu Ya'qub, in sending what

To send of blossoms from the garden,

we have longed for: the flower of the garden.

فَلَقَدْ دَجَتْ أَفْكَارُنَا كَلَفاً بِهِ

فَعَسَى يَضُوعُ شَذَاهُ بِالسُّلْوَانِ

For our thoughts have become ensnared by longing for him

For our thoughts have grown dark with an intense passion for it,

Perhaps his fragrance will waft with the zephyr,

so perhaps its diffusing fragrance will bring us solace.

لاَ زِلْتَ تَرْفُلُ فِي بُرُودِ مَسَرَّةٍ

بَادِي الْبَشَائِرِ ضَاحِكِ الأَسْنَانِ

Still you saunter in the coolness of gladness

May you never cease trailing your garments in joy,

With glad tidings, smiling gently,

showing signs of good tidings, with a bright and laughing smile.

وَمِنِ ابْنِ زَاكُورٍ سَلاَمٌ عَاطَرٌ

كَالْيَاسَمِينِ يَضُوعُ فِي بُسْتَانِ

And from the son of Zakur sincere greetings

And from Ibn Zakour comes a fragrant greeting,

Like sweet jasmine wafting in a garden,

like jasmine diffusing its scent throughout a garden;

أَذْكَى مِنَ النِّسْرِينِ بَلَّلَهُ النَّدَى

وَأَلَذُّ مِنْ وَصْلٍ عَلَى هِجْرَانِ

More fragrant than lavender, moistened by dew,

more deeply scented than wild roses moistened by the dew,

Sweeter than a reunion after estrangement,

and sweeter than a reunion after long estrangement.

يَأْتِيكَ مَا غَنَّتْ حَمَائِمُ أَيْكَةٍ

وَتَمَايَسَتْ عَذَبَاتُ قُضْبِ الْبَانِ

Bearing what the doves of Ayka sang

It comes to you for as long as doves sing in the thicket,

And the pure nightingales of Qudayb warbled.

and the tender twigs of the ban tree gracefully sway.