يَا أُيُّها المَلِكُ الذي أَيَّامُهُ

حِلْمٌ وَجَفْنُ السَّيْفِ فِيها سَاهِرُ

O King whose days

Are mercy, while the sword's eyelid keeps awake,

والضَّارِبُ الأَقْرانَ أَوَّلَ ضَرْبَةٍ

هِيَ مِن حَيَاةِ مَن اتّقاهَا آخِرُ

And he who strikes his peers a first blow

Strikes the last breath from his own life's sake