تَدوسُ شَديدَ الدّوسِ في التُّربِ واطِئاً

تَدوسُ شَديدَ الدّوسِ في التُّربِ واطِئاً

وَمِنكَ بِتيهِ العجبِ يَشمَخُ معطسُ

وَمِنكَ بِتيهِ العجبِ يَشمَخُ معطسُ

You trample fiercely upon the soil as you tread,

You trample heavily on the soil walking low

And your nose rises high in haughty self-conceit.

And from your wondrous wandering a sneeze springs high

رُوَيدَك ما هَذي بِتربٍ وَإِنَّما

رُوَيدَك ما هَذي بِتربٍ وَإِنَّما

جِباهٌ وَأَجسادٌ وَعَينٌ وَأَرؤُسُ

جِباهٌ وَأَجسادٌ وَعَينٌ وَأَرؤُسُ

Gently now! This is not soil, but rather

Your soil is not mere dust but brows and bodies

Foreheads and bodies, an eye and heads.

And eyes and heads that see and think and cry