سَلَّت عَلَيَّ يَدُ الخُطوب سُيوفَها

فَجذَذنَ مِن جِلَدي الخَطيفَ الأمتَنا

The hands of misfortunes brandished their swords against me,

And tore strips from my delicate skin.

ضَرَبَت بِها أَيدي الخُطوبِ وَإِنَّما

ضَرَبَت رِقابَ الآمِلينَ بِها المُنى

They struck with them the hands of misfortunes, but rather,

They struck with them the necks of those hopeful of wishes.

يا آمَلي العادات مِن نَفَحاتِنا

كُفّوا فَإِنَّ الدَهرَ كَفّ أَكُفّنا

O my hopes from our breaths,

Refrain, for time has turned away, as we turned away.