خَليليَّ هَل عَهدي بمكّةَ راجعُ

فَقَد قُليَت بالهند منّي المضاجعُ

My beloved, will I return to Mecca?

For my bed has been made cold in India,

وَهَل شربةٌ من ماء زَمزمَ تَرتَوي

بها كبِدٌ قد أَظمأتها الوقائعُ

And will I drink a sip of the water of Zamzam,

To quench the thirst of my parched liver?

وَهَل عامِرٌ ربعُ الهوى بسويقَةٍ

فَعَهدي بذاكَ الربع للشَمل جامعُ

Is the abode of love still inhabited in Suwaqah?

For that abode was the gatherer of our kin,

وَهَل من صفا من سالف العيش بالصَفا

يَعودُ لنا يوماً فَتَصفو المشارِعُ

Will we ever return to the pure living of past days in Safa,

Where the streets were once traveled joyfully?

سَقى اللَه ما بينَ الحجون إِلى الصَفا

مرابعَ فيها للظِباء مراتِعُ

May God water the land between Hijoun and Safa,

Grazing grounds where the deer freely wander,

وَجادَ بأَجيادٍ منازل جيرَةٍ

بهنَّ حمامُ الأَبطَحين سواجعُ

And may its courtyards host the cooing wild doves,

Who take shelter on the hillsides.

وَحيّا الحَيا بالمأزمين معاهِداً

فَما عَهدُها عِندي مَدى الدَهر ضائعُ

Greet the living, making pacts with past friends,

For the days of their memory will never be lost.