أَبولّو مَرحَباً بِكِ يا أَبولّو

فَإِنَّكِ مِن عُكاظِ الشِعرِ ظِلُّ

Apollo, welcome, O Apollo

For you are from Ukaz, the poetry's shade

عُكاظُ وَأَنتِ لِلبُلَغاءِ سوقٌ

عَلى جَنَباتِها رَحَلوا وَحَلّوا

Ukaz, and you are for the eloquent a market

Upon its sides they pitched their tents and lodged

وَيَنبوعٌ مِنَ الإِنشادِ صافِ

صَدى المُتَأَدِّبينَ بِهِ يُقَلُّ

A fountain of beautiful reciting

The echo of the cultivated with it is little

وَمِضمارٌ يَسوقُ إِلى القَوافي

سَوابِقُها إِذا الشُعَراءُ قَلّوا

And a racecourse leading to rhymes

Its racers, when the poets speak

يَقولُ الشِعرَ قائِلُهُم رَصيناً

وَيُحسِنُ حينَ يُكثِرُ أَو يُقِلُّ

He says poetry orderly

And excels when he makes much or little

وَلَولا المُحسِنونَ بِكُلِّ أَرضِ

لَما سادَ الشُعوبُ وَلا اِستَقَلّوا

And were it not for the excellent everywhere

No nations would prevail or become independent

عَسى تَأتينَنا بِمُعَلَّقاتٍ

نَروحُ عَلى القَديمِ بِها نُدِلُّ

May you bring us some Mu’allaqat

We walk with it on the ancient softly

لَعَلَّ مَواهِباً خَفِيَت وَضاعَت

تُذاعُ عَلى يَدَيكِ وَتُستَغَلُّ

Maybe talents hidden were lost

Broadcast through you and exploited

صَحائِفُكِ المُدَبَّجَةُ الحَواشي

رُبى الوَردِ المُفَتَّحِ أَو أَجَلُّ

Your leaves gilded margins

Were brought up on roses or more beautiful

رَياحينُ الرِياضِ يُمَلُّ مِنها

وَرَيحانُ القَرائِحِ لا يُمَلُّ

The gardens’ fragrances one would be fed up of

Yet the scent of talents is never tiring

يُمَهِّدُ عَبقَرِيُّ الشِعرِ فيها

لِكُلِّ ذَخيرَةٍ فيها مَحَلُّ

The genius of poetry in it paves the way

For every treasure in it a place

وَلَيسَ الحَقُّ بِالمَنقوصِ فيها

وَلا الأَعراضُ فيها تُستَحَلُّ

Truth is not diminished in it

Nor chastity in it made licit

وَلَيسَت بِالمَجالِ لِنَقدِ باغٍ

وَراءَ يَراعِهِ حَسَدٌ وَغِلُّ

It is no place for critic’s abuse

Beyond his pasture envy and rancor