كُلُّ قلبٍ حَمَلَ الخَسْفَ ومَا

مَلَّ مِنْ ذُلِّ الحَيَاةِ الأَرْذَلِ

Every heart that bore abasement, and did not

Loathe the ignominy of the basest life,

كُلُّ شعبٍ قَدْ طَغَتْ فيهِ الدِّمَا

دونَ أَنْ يَثْأَرَ للحَقِّ الجَلِي

Every nation wherein bloodshed has run rampant,

Without rising to vindicate the clear right,

خَلِّهِ للموتِ يَطْويهِ فمَا

حَظُّهُ غيرُ الفَنَاءِ الأَنْكَلِ

Leave it to Death to fold it into oblivion,

For its fate is naught but the most grievous ruin.