الناسُ أَنتَ وَما بالَغتُ في الكلم

وَالدَهرُ عِندَكَ مَحسوب مِن الخَدَمِ

People, you are not what words can fully praise,

And time in your presence seems naught but a slave.

قَد أَصبَحَت بِكَ دُنيانا عَلى ظَمأً

مِن الأَكارم في رَيٍّ مِن النِعَم

The world through you is revived from its thirst

For noble deeds and kindly acts that save.

وَبش وَجه زَمان أَنتَ رَونَقَهُ

وَاِعتاضَ حسن شَباب مِنكَ عَن هَرَم

The days grow fair seeing your cheerful face,

And from you youth borrows charm against the grave.

أَعيادُنا بِكَ أَعياد تُضيءُ سَنا

وَنور وَجهِكَ عَنا كاشف الظُلم

Our feasts are joyous with your light, that drives

Away the darkness that would pain and crave.

وَمَدح غَيرك خَسران لِسامِعِهِ

فَهُوَ الدويُّ الَّذي يَفضي إِلى الصَمم

To praise another would but weary ears,

Leading to deafness like a misplaced stave.

يابن الحُسام المُرجى في شَدائِدُنا

وَالمُسبغ النعم العُظمى عَلى الأُمم

O son of valiant sires, our hope when fate

Would threaten, pouring blessings without stave,

صَنائع لَكَ لا زالَت مَواقعها

بَرءاً عَلى سقم المَعروف وَالكَرَم

Your generous acts still yield unfailing fruit,

Curing the sickness that infects the brave.