1. The mirage, gloom, and desert,
And confused straying thirsty souls,

2. And nights following nights,
A year of emptiness and another vacant,

3. Little is my provision therein and scarce is water,
And companions have turned away, even the loyal ones.

4. How can the wandering beloved depart?
My wings are sickness and separation,

5. My wounds continuously bleed,
My sins are shackled and slow.

6. Reach my boat, he has corrupted it,
With raging storms,

7. Vast deadly seas, and a desolate horizon,
An endless limiting horizon,

8. I stayed up expecting the dawn, and the star's eye refused to sleep.
I wonder at my waiting, what is it that I hope for,

9. And what is left for my heart to expect?
I am attentive, listening closely,

10. To every caller.
We met after circling in the hidden paths, radiant lights,

11. They have crossed oceans of blood and thorns, and came,
In my arms or your arms, safety, peace, mercy and salvation,

12. And on your tortured chest or mine, a fortress, sanctity and shelter.
How I call you in solitude, you return fruitless echoes,

13. I call you with my blood, so it flows with my sorrow,
I call you in closeness, hoping only for an answer,

14. With your sweet name, the most beautiful of all names, however numerous they are,
An uttered word, destinies loosen their bows, and space casts arrows,

15. And on the lips it is a flute, warbling, and a singing bird,
In telling, it recalls friends, and gathers news,

16. A coincidence, then a standstill, then agreement, then longing, then meeting,
Then a little happiness, incomplete and fleeting joy,

17. Then yearning, agony, burning, hellfire, its fuel are the martyrs.
My remaining while the best years have passed,

18. And my waiting until winter comes,
Dawn rises wearied, pale,

19. Wearied and exhausted,
In myself, evening fell and night came,

20. Before evening arrived.
You visited me like spring in a procession of flowers, wondrous and refreshing,

21. Your face is the most beautiful, in it magic and intellect meet,
And paleness like the shadow of wine, alluring for the lovesick with its fair pallor,

22. And your forehead where the Creator has deposited his great capability,
Carved of marble and illuminated by dawn with roses, pouring light into it.

23. And I am the bird whose soul craves the heavens and the vast universe,
A hunter has snared me, addicted me, the aggressor left, and the affliction remained,

24. Welcome great love, whether it remains or you are safe, staying well suits me,
It is the pinnacle defeating death, which annihilation cannot reach.

25. My day passed like those before it, life and the living parade upon it,
Adam is like of old in heart and thought, though clothing has changed,

26. His nature and being are unaltered, only Eve wears something other than herself,
Beauty worshipped, sacred and an offering, a lord while fame is hollow.

27. The fleeting wreckage battles over it,
And desires, their glitter temptation,

28. Ships passing each other,
The winds blow for the self and caprices,

29. The veiled unknowns, expanses,
The wise have wearied deciphering their symbols,

30. Therein is the hoped-for harbor, the desired shore, and the silent rock.
My day passed like those before it, and a delightful night came,

31. Wherein every star held its wedding, a goblet filling with light,
Still pouring wine, and the cups therein renew and refill,

32. Until the singers grew drowsy and the carpet and companions fell asleep,
Except for a wakeful star in the night’s corner, wondrously splendid,

33. That is the star of my beloved, mine is the longing, his the twinkling and beckoning,
How I sing to him with yearning, as I sang to her swaying blossomed branch.

34. And my arm still waits, and my chest
Is a fire for the stranger, so perhaps the wanderer will find guidance.

35. Why did you leave me and distance your dwelling, while I cannot ascend to you,
With what you have of brilliance, do not delay me,

36. Do you not see me, with my fortune gone,
The graces missed me after you.

37. After you, beauty has ended, no splendor remains, nor a fair hand,
Perfection walked in your procession, goodness manifest, and the noble candor.

38. The favors that fate once had for me
Have folded up with your departure.