ناجى نَفسَ الصَباح وَردٌ هاجا

ناجى نَفسَ الصَباح وَردٌ هاجا

ما لي عَبَثت بي الصَبا اِسِتدراجا

ما لي عَبَثت بي الصَبا اِسِتدراجا

A withered rose whispered to the breath of morning:

My soul implored the dawn, and passion stirred,

What ails me? The east breeze toyed with me, luring me on.

Why did my youth in vain to me occur?

في التُربِ هويتُ لَيتَني لَم أَعقِد

في التُربِ هويتُ لَيتَني لَم أَعقِد

مِن فَوق زُمُرُّديِّ تَختٍ تاجا

مِن فَوق زُمُرُّديِّ تَختٍ تاجا

Into the dust I fell; would that I had not fastened

Would I were dust before ambition lured

A crown above an emerald throne.

My diadem'd head from emerald mattress' fur!