1. No, by Him who, my lord
Destroys men though you remain,

2. No palace can compare to you,
With your grace and bowers and hall,

3. A house whose balconies now
Rise to the seven spheres,

4. Its domes and constellations vying
In rank, exceeding all.

5. It has fortresses that lament
Their walls, when we're apart,

6. Where greenery is lost, though it
Moves on Buraq's back.

7. When I entered its precincts
And walked its lengthy hall,

8. A house, my lord, which fills
Me with yearning for you.