أَين الأَساة فَقَلبي اليَوم مَجروح

مُتَيم لَعبت فيهِ التباريحُ

Where is joy when my heart today is wounded?

A lonely wanderer played by the winds.

روح تَسيل عَلى خَدي فَيحسبها

دَمعاً عَليل فُؤاد ما لَهُ روح

A soul pouring on my cheek, mistaken for

The tears of a languid heart that has no soul.

وَالحُب سَطر يَلوح الصَدر مُكتَتب

مُتَرجم بِلِسان الشَوق مَشروح

And love inscribed lines that gleam on my chest

Translated by the tongue of yearning laid bare.

وَضَعت خَدي عَلى كَف الخُضوع وَبي

ذُل عَلى عَتبات العز مَطروح

I placed my cheek on the palm of submission, and in me

Is the humiliation upon the thresholds of glory cast down.

فَلاحَ بارق وادي الشَعب وَاِنتَبَهت

نوّام وَجدي وَفاحَ النِد وَالشيح

So the valley of my people flashed like lightning, and

My slumbering determination awoke, and the challenge and the struggle smelled sweet.

وَقامَ هاتف ذاكَ الحَي يُنشدني

بَيتاً يَسلي فُؤادي فيهِ تَلويح

And a caller from that neighborhood recited to me

A verse that comforts my heart with its hints.

إِن المُلوك إِذا أَبوابها غُلِقَت

لا تَيأَسَنَّ فَباب اللَهِ مَفتوح

“If the doors of kings are closed,

Do not despair, for God's door is open.”