جَلا مُحَيّاكَ عَن أَبصارِنا الرَّمَدا

وقرّبَ اللَّه مِن مَرآكَ ما بَعُدَا

Your radiant face has disappeared from our vision,

And may God bring the day we see you near.

وجاءَ يَحمِلُ مِنكَ الطِّرْفُ أربعَةً

البدرَ والطودَ والدّأماءَ والأَسَدا

It comes bearing four gifts:

The full moon, the high dune, the rain clouds and the lion.

تَكادُ تَبذُلُ عَينُ المَرءِ أسْوَدَها

في نظرَةٍ منك تنفي الهمَّ والكَمَدا

A man could give his eyes for a single glance from you,

That would relieve sorrow and veil grief.

كُلٌّ مسرٌّ بِوَجهٍ في أَسِرَّتِهِ

نورٌ إذا ما رماهَ أكبرٌ سَجَدا

Each one is delighted by a face in his family,

A light that the elders bow to when it shines on them.

ظُباكَ بالردّ عن دين الهُدى انفرَدَتْ

وأنتَ ما زلتَ بالإنعامِ مُنْفَرِدا

You singled out your lions for defending the faith,

While you remained singular in your benevolence.

ليثٌ تَخالُ سُيوفاً في بَراثنِهِ

وتحسبُ الزّغْفَ منه الشَّعْرَ واللبدا

A lion whose fangs shred the swords,

You'd think its mane was made of hair and twisted threads.

كَأَنَّ أجفانَهُ في الحَربِ قَد وَرَدَت

مَعَ الدِّماءِ منَ الهِندِيِّ ما وَرَدا

As if its eyelids in war were dyed red

With the blood of Indians mixed with wine.

لِشِدَّةِ البَأسِ في يُمناهُ ضَربَتُهُ

إِن أُسكِرَ السَيفُ مِنها بِالنَجيعِ شَدا

So fierce are the blows from its right hand, should a sword taste them,

It would get drunk with blood spilled copiously.

وَلِلرُّدَينِيِّ يَوْمَ الطّعنِ عالِيَةٌ

تَلوكُ بَينَ حَشا الضِّرغامَةِ الكَبِدا

And for the Rudaini, on the day of the thrusting of spears, are lofty deeds,

Shredding livers amidst the throngs of warriors.

فالدِّينُ معتَمدٌ مِنهُ على مَلكٍ

يُمسي ويُضحي على الرّحمنِ مُعتَمِدا

The faith relies on a king whose kingdom

Rises and sets with trust in the Merciful.

كَأنّ شُهبَ رجومٍ في أَسِنَّتِهِ

يُرْدي بِها مِن طُغاةِ الكفرِ مَن وَرَدا

As if the shooting stars flung from his tongue

Strike down the tyrants of disbelief who oppose him.

وَكُلَّما عَقَدَ الرّاياتِ مُعتَزِماً

حَلّتْ أَياديهِ مِن آرائِهِ عُقَدا

And whenever he resolves to unfurl the banners,

His hands harvest victories from his resolutions.

شَهمٌ صَبورٌ إذا ما القرمُ زاحَمهُ

مُزاحماً في كِفاحٍ ظَنّهُ أُحُدا

A bold man who, when adversity disputes with him,

Disputes it back in a struggle he sees as one of equals.

وقُرَّحٍ بكُماةِ الرّوعِ مُقْدِمَةٍ

كَأنَّهُنَّ سَعَالٍ تحمِلُ الأُسُدا

A warrior who charges into the fray of fright,

As if he is a roaring lion carrying its cubs.

إذا تَبِينُ سماءٌ عن عجاجَتِها

كَانَت لَهُم سمهَرِيَّاتُ القَنا عَمَدا

When the sky clears of its clouds,

The lances are pillars for them holding the sky aloft.

مِن كُلِّ ذِمْرٍ منَ الفولاذِ غاصَ به

يُجَمّدُ القَرُّ مِنهُ فَوقَهُ زَبَدا

With every Indian sword, its steel immersed in blood,

The cold from it freezes the blood spilled atop it into ice.

يَسطُو بِعَضبٍ إِذا ما هَزّ مَضْرِبَهُ

يومَ الضّرابِ لعيني ساهِدٍ رَقَدا

It slashes with a stick, if its swing is provoked

On the day of fighting, to the eyes of one lying asleep.

لا يشربُ الرّوحَ من جُثمانِ ذي زَردٍ

حَتَّى يَرى الحدّ مِنهُ يَأكلُ الزّرَدا

It does not let the soul sip from the body of one clad in armor

Until it sees the sword devouring the links of mail.

أسَلْتَ سَيْلَ نجيعٍ من عِداكَ بهم

في الأرضِ منهُم فَغادَرت الثرى عَمِدا

You unleashed a flood of armies against your enemies,

Leaving the land bereft of them, devoid of pillars.

يا مَنْ عليه مَدُار المَكرُماتِ ومَنْ

بِعَدْلِهِ كُلُّ مُضطَرٍّ له سُنِدا

O pivot of all acts of grace! O you

Whose justice is the pillar of all the helpless!

طارَتْ إِلَيكَ بَنُو الآمالِ وَانتَشَقَتْ

مِن ذِكرِكَ الندَّ واستَشفَينَ مِنكَ يَدا

Yearning souls have flocked to you and found relief

In your name, and hands outstretched for aid were healed by you.

فَما انحرَفْتَ بِراجٍ عن بُلوغِ مُنىً

ولا تركتَ لصادٍ بالعطاءِ صدا

You never turned any asker away without fulfilling their request,

Nor left any yearner unmet in your munificence.

لا نأيَ لي بِتَنائي السّيرِ عن بَلَدي

فقد رضيتُ بحمصٍ بَعْدَهُ بلَدا

I do not desire to live far from my homeland,

For I am pleased with Homs after it as my home.

بُدِّلتُ مِن مَعشَرِ الأَدْنَين مَعشَرها

لا فَرَّقَ اللَّهُ فيما بَينَنا أَبَدا

I was parted from my own people and joined theirs,

But God never parted us, not ever.

وكَم حَوى التُّرْبُ دوني من ذَوي رَحِمي

وما مَقَلْتُ لِبُعدي منهمُ أحدا

How many of my kin lie buried beneath the soil from me,

And I lamented the loss of none of them.

ولم يُسِرْنيَ من مثواكَ مَوْتُ أبي

وَقَد يُقَلقِلُ مَوْتُ الوالِدِ الوَلَدا

Nor did the death of my father please me,

Though a parent's death often grieves their child.

وما سَدَدتَ سَبيلي عن لِقائِهِمُ

لَكِنْ جَعَلتَ صِفادي عنهُمُ الصّفَدا

You did not bar my way from reuniting with them,

But you made my own chains keep me from them.

وحسنَ برٍّ إذا فاضَتْ حلاوَتهُ

على فؤاديَ من حَرِّ الأَسى بَرَدا

Yet kindness is beautiful when its sweetness

Flows over my heart and cools the heat of grief.