You are the apple of my eye, my heart’s delight.

I am remote from my valley, to me you are the Burning Bush of Sinai!

You are a houri of the Arabian Desert, nursed by the Western breeze.

I feel homesick in exile, you feel homesick in exile.

Prosper in this strange land! May the morning dew quench your thirst!

The world presents a strange sight: The vision’s mantle is torn apart!

May valour struggle with the waves if it must! The other side of the river is not to be seen!

Life owes itself to the heat of one’s soul: Flame does not rise from dust.

The Syrian evening’s fallen star: Shined brighter in the exile’s dawn.

There are no frontiers for the Man of Faith, he is at home everywhere.