Oh, Eternally Glorious Shuraya,
I am struck dumb by your splendor,
Like a child before god.
A thousand-thousand glittering spires,
Stabbing the bosom of the open sky,
Stand upon your breadth,
Like the spikes of a divine crown.
Ten million olden palaces and gardens without rival,
Enjoyed by an earnest and noble race,
Their morals as high as their towers,
Like empyrean titans.
The ocean is your throne,
Itís denizens your sentinels,
Nature itself bends to your command,
Like faithful servants.
Ten Millennia of struggles and triumphs,
You have withstood more than any other,
The savage races of the world look upon you,
Like grubs first seeing light.
City of Ancients,
Home of Myriad Heroes,
You Have No Equal.