الناسُ أَنتَ وَما بالَغتُ في الكلم

الناسُ أَنتَ وَما بالَغتُ في الكلم

وَالدَهرُ عِندَكَ مَحسوب مِن الخَدَمِ

وَالدَهرُ عِندَكَ مَحسوب مِن الخَدَمِ

You are all humankind, and I have not exaggerated in my words.

People, you are not what words can fully praise,

And Time is reckoned among your servants.

And time in your presence seems naught but a slave.

قَد أَصبَحَت بِكَ دُنيانا عَلى ظَمأً

قَد أَصبَحَت بِكَ دُنيانا عَلى ظَمأً

مِن الأَكارم في رَيٍّ مِن النِعَم

مِن الأَكارم في رَيٍّ مِن النِعَم

Through you, our world, though thirsting

The world through you is revived from its thirst

for noble men, is now quenched with blessings.

For noble deeds and kindly acts that save.

وَبش وَجه زَمان أَنتَ رَونَقَهُ

وَبش وَجه زَمان أَنتَ رَونَقَهُ

وَاِعتاضَ حسن شَباب مِنكَ عَن هَرَم

وَاِعتاضَ حسن شَباب مِنكَ عَن هَرَم

And the face of an age whose splendor you are has brightened,

The days grow fair seeing your cheerful face,

and from you has gained youthful beauty in place of old age.

And from you youth borrows charm against the grave.

أَعيادُنا بِكَ أَعياد تُضيءُ سَنا

أَعيادُنا بِكَ أَعياد تُضيءُ سَنا

وَنور وَجهِكَ عَنا كاشف الظُلم

وَنور وَجهِكَ عَنا كاشف الظُلم

Our festivals, through you, are festivals aglow with radiance,

Our feasts are joyous with your light, that drives

and the light of your face dispels darkness from us.

Away the darkness that would pain and crave.

وَمَدح غَيرك خَسران لِسامِعِهِ

وَمَدح غَيرك خَسران لِسامِعِهِ

فَهُوَ الدويُّ الَّذي يَفضي إِلى الصَمم

فَهُوَ الدويُّ الَّذي يَفضي إِلى الصَمم

And praise of anyone but you is a loss to its listener,

To praise another would but weary ears,

for it is the din that leads to deafness.

Leading to deafness like a misplaced stave.

يابن الحُسام المُرجى في شَدائِدُنا

يابن الحُسام المُرجى في شَدائِدُنا

وَالمُسبغ النعم العُظمى عَلى الأُمم

وَالمُسبغ النعم العُظمى عَلى الأُمم

O son of al-Husam, our hope amid our hardships,

O son of valiant sires, our hope when fate

and bestower of the greatest blessings upon the nations:

Would threaten, pouring blessings without stave,

صَنائع لَكَ لا زالَت مَواقعها

صَنائع لَكَ لا زالَت مَواقعها

بَرءاً عَلى سقم المَعروف وَالكَرَم

بَرءاً عَلى سقم المَعروف وَالكَرَم

Your benefactions—may their effects ever remain

Your generous acts still yield unfailing fruit,

a cure for the sickness of benevolence and generosity.

Curing the sickness that infects the brave.