فُقْتُ الحِسانَ بحُلّتي وبِتاجي

فهَوَتْ إليّ الشُّهْبُ في الأبْراجِ

I lost my beauty and my crown,

The stars fell down for me in constellations.

يَبْدو إناءُ الماءِ فيّ كَعابِدٍ

في قِبْلَةِ المِحْرابِ قامَ يُناجي

The water jug appears in me like a worshipper

In the direction of the altar, standing praying.

ضَمِنَتْ علَى مرّ الزّمانِ مَكارِمي

رِيَّ الأُوامِ وحاجَةَ المُحْتاجِ

My virtues guaranteed, despite the bitterness of time,

The needs of the needy and the pilgrim throngs.

فكأنّني اسْتَقْرَيْتُ آثارَ النّدى

مِنْ كَفِّ موْلانا أبي الحَجّاجِ

As if I collected traces of dew,

From the palm of our master Abu Al Hajjaj.

لا زالَ بَدْراً في سَماءِ خِلافَةٍ

ما لاحَ بَدْرٌ في الظّلامِ الدّاجي

He remains a full moon in the sky of the caliphate,

As long as a full moon shines in the pitch-black darkness.