أَحَقاً عِبادَ اللهِ أَن لَستُ رَائياً

أَحَقاً عِبادَ اللهِ أَن لَستُ رَائياً

سَنامَ الحِمى أُخرى اللّيَالى الغَوَابرِ

سَنامَ الحِمى أُخرى اللّيَالى الغَوَابرِ

Is it true, servants of God, that I shall not see

Is it true, O servants of God, that I am not lovesick?

the crest of the protected pasture again in the nights to come?

The wild cows make their marks at nights of passing clouds,

كأَنَّ فُؤَادِى مِن تَذكُّرِهِ الحِمى

كأَنَّ فُؤَادِى مِن تَذكُّرِهِ الحِمى

وَاَهلَ الحِمى يَهفو بِهِ رِيشُ طائرِ

وَاَهلَ الحِمى يَهفو بِهِ رِيشُ طائرِ

It is as though my heart, from remembering the protected pasture

As if my heart from remembering my beloved

and the pasture’s people, were borne fluttering by a bird’s feathers.

And the people of that land are stirred by the feathers of a bird.