هِيَ الدارُ ماحالَت لَعَمري عُهودُها

هِيَ الدارُ ماحالَت لَعَمري عُهودُها

وَلا اِفتَقَدَت مِن زَيِّها غَيرَ ناسِها

وَلا اِفتَقَدَت مِن زَيِّها غَيرَ ناسِها

This is the dwelling—by my life, its familiar features have not changed;

It is the abode; by my life, its familiar ways have not changed.

That abode whose glories did not last, alas,

nor has it lost anything of its appearance except its people.

Nor has it lost any of its adornment except its people.

Now mourns with all but people passed away,

فَكَم حَلَّها مِن ضَيغَمٍ في عَرينِهِ

فَكَم حَلَّها مِن ضَيغَمٍ في عَرينِهِ

وَكَم سَكَنَتها ظَبيَّةٌ في كِناسِها

وَكَم سَكَنَتها ظَبيَّةٌ في كِناسِها

How many a lion has occupied it, within his lair,

For how many a lion has dwelt there in his lair,

With beasts now making lair midst every room,

and how many a doe has dwelt in it, within her covert.

And how many a gazelle has lived there in her covert.

And birds now nesting on the towers in play.