كَم لِريحِ الغَربِ مِن عُرفٍ نَدِيِّ

كَالشَرابِ العَذبِ في نَفسِ الصَدِيّ

How gentle is the fragrance of the western breeze

Like sweet drink to the soul of the parched

حَيثُ عَبّادٌ فَتى المَجدِ الَّذي

نَصَّتِ الدُنيا بِهِ نَصَّ الهَدِيّ

Where the people are youthful glories who

The world has guided, as the guide leads the lost

مَلِكٌ راحَتُهُ بَحرُ النَدى

مِثلَما غُرَّتُهُ بَدرُ النَدِيّ

A king whose comfort is the sea of dew

And whose anger flares like the full moon’s glow

أَصبَحَت دَولَتُهُ في عَصرِنا

كَفِرِندٍ عادَ في سَيفٍ صَدِيّ

His state in our time is like a polished sword

Returned to its sheath, made sharp and ready