ما شَرف الرَوض في نَزاهَتهِ

ما شَرف الرَوض في نَزاهَتهِ

إِلّا وَسَتر الغَمام يَنسَحب

إِلّا وَسَتر الغَمام يَنسَحب

Never does the garden gain glory in its loveliness

The meadow's honor in its purity

without the veil of clouds being drawn.

Is but the clouds' veil slowly drawn.

كَأَنَّهُ البَدر عِندَ رُؤيَتِهِ

كَأَنَّهُ البَدر عِندَ رُؤيَتِهِ

لا شَكَ شمس النَهار تَحتَجب

لا شَكَ شمس النَهار تَحتَجب

As though it were the full moon—at the sight of it,

As though the full moon at first sight

the sun of day surely veils itself.

Behind daylight's sun now hidden, gone.