مَوْلاَيَ يَا مَلْجَأَ الْمَسَاكِينِ

وَمَنْ حُلاَهُ حَلْيُ الدَّوَاوِينِ

My Lord, O refuge of the destitute,

And he whose virtues are the adornment of poetic scrolls,

عَبْدُكَ ذَاكَ الذِي يَرُودُ بِكُمْ

رَوْضَ الْمَحَاسِنِ ذَا الأَفَانِينِ

This servant of yours, who through you explores

The garden of beauties with its diverse branches,

قَدْ جَاءَ مُقْتَطِفاً لِوَعْدِكُمُ ال

دَّانِي الْجَنَى مِنْ دَوْحِ الدَّمَامِينِ

Has come to harvest your promise, offering

Fruits within easy reach from the towering trees of Al-Damamini,

لاَ زَالَ أُفْقُ عُلاَكَ مُحْتَرِساً

بِشُهْبِ مَجْدِكَ مِنْ شَيَاطِينِ

May the horizon of your eminence remain guarded

By the shooting stars of your glory against the devils,

وَرَوْضُ مَدْحِكَ نَشْرُ هَبَّتِهِ

أَذْكَى شَذاً مِنْ نَشْرِ الرَّيَاحِينِ

And the garden of your praise, the diffusion of its breeze

Is far more fragrant than the scent of sweet basil.