ما طابَ كَعَيشِنا بحُزوى عَيشُ

ما طابَ كَعَيشِنا بحُزوى عَيشُ

أَيّام ثَرى بابِكُم لي فَرشُ

أَيّام ثَرى بابِكُم لي فَرشُ

No life was as sweet as our life at Huzwa,

Our life was not pleasant without living near you,

In the days when the soil at your door was my bed.

The days I spread myself on the ground at your door.

لَم أَدرِ وَأَوسَعتُ ثراكم لَثماً

لَم أَدرِ وَأَوسَعتُ ثراكم لَثماً

هَل فارق ذا الترابَ ذاكَ النَقشُ

هَل فارق ذا الترابَ ذاكَ النَقشُ

I did not know, as I lavished kisses upon your soil,

I did not know, as I kissed your soil,

whether that imprint had left this dust.

If it was the soil or the engraving that I missed.