لِمَنِ القَتيلُ وَما تَحَلَّلتِ الحُبا

هَل كانَ غَيرَ مُسَوَّدٍ مَدفونِ

For whom is the slain, and why did loves dissolve?

Was he other than a darkened buried king

بِالشامِ مَلكاً قَد تَبَدَّدَ مُلكُهُ

بِمَسَرَّةٍ مِن أَنفُسٍ وَعُيونِ

In Syria whose kingdom is now lost?

With relish made from souls and eyes.

لا بُدَّ أَن يَقَعَ الجَزاءُ بِظالِمٍ

وَتُحَرِّكُ الأَحقادُ بَعدَ سُكونِ

Retribution must befall the unjust

And hatred stirs after tranquility.

لا يُصلِحُ الجَبّارَ إِلّا ضَربَةٌ

تَشفيهِ مِن خَبَلٍ بِهِ وَجُنونِ

Only a blow reforms the tyrant

Curing him of madness and insanity.