أَيُّ شِعْرٍ أَيُّ نَثْرٍ مُجْزِيءٌ

مِنْ نَدًى يَجْرِي بِهِ الوَادِي الأَمِينْ

What poetry, what prose can match

The dew that flows in the faithful valley,

مِنْ نَدَى شَمْسِ المَبَرَّاتِ الَّتِي

حَمْدُهَا مِلْءُ قُلُوبِ العَالَمِينْ

The dew of the brilliant sun

Whose praise fills the hearts of all beings.

قَدْرْهَا الأَرْفَعُ لا يُبْلَغُ فِي

فَضْلِ دُنْيَا وَلا فَضْلِ دِينْ

Her worth is the highest, unmatched in

Worldly merit or merit of faith.

جودُهَا الشَّامِلُ كَمْ فِيهِ أساً

لِجَرِيحٍ وَسُرُورٌ لِحَزِينْ

Her all-encompassing generosity, how much

Solace for the wounded, joy for the sorrowful.

يَجِدُ المَنْكُوبَ أَوْفَى عِوَضٍ

فِيهِ مِنْ كُلِّ رَخِيصٍ وَثَمِينْ

The afflicted find the truest recompense

In it than any precious or paltry thing.

هَكَذَا الإِحْسَانُ لا يَحْصِيهِ مَنْ

عدَّهُ فَلْتَحْيَ أُمُّ المُحْسِنينُ

Thus goodness cannot be counted by one

Who counts it - long live the mother of the beneficent!