1. When my journey took me far from your outstretched hand
And the post horses carried me further away

2. Oh house of the courier, whose door
Opens onto Damascus, the door of the post

3. My sons say, if our master would grant
Blood to these slaves

4. In the absence of our father, oh if only
He had a loving one absent from his child

5. His children and daughters long for him
As does the lady of the house, home of poetry

6. Her home is far, and his mind is far
As the home of verse has gone far from him

7. Come to the aid of a passionate lover, and come to the aid
Of one accustomed to simple plenty and abundant merit