يا حامِلاً في قِمَاطِ الغِمْدِ مُكْتَهِلاً

يا حامِلاً في قِمَاطِ الغِمْدِ مُكْتَهِلاً

مِنَ الظُّبى نَيِّراً كَالنَّجْم في الظُّلَمِ

مِنَ الظُّبى نَيِّراً كَالنَّجْم في الظُّلَمِ

O you who carry, in the sheath’s swaddling bands, a full-grown one,

O bearer in the scabbard's sheath made dull,

From among sword-blades, radiant as a star in darkness.

Dark with the night's dew, bright as a star in gloom,

لَوْ لَمْ يَكُنْ كالوَليدِ الطِّفْلِ في صِغَرٍ

لَوْ لَمْ يَكُنْ كالوَليدِ الطِّفْلِ في صِغَرٍ

مَا أوْضَعوهُ دَمَ الأَبْطال والهِمَمِ

مَا أوْضَعوهُ دَمَ الأَبْطال والهِمَمِ

Were it not like a newborn infant in its smallness,

Had you not been as a babe, a child in youth,

They would not have spurred it toward the blood of heroes and lofty aspirations.

They had not set you over heroes' blood and zeal.