1. With myself a lover or Mecca loathed
He treats in secret sorrow and pain

2. We're both lonely, gladdened by no companion
Among people, until the months of pilgrimage pass

3. I yearn for the month of Muharram, if only
Tomorrow morning it was, whether past or yet to come

4. Alas for my preoccupation with whom I preoccupy
When he circumambulates or touches the corner to receive

5. Our backs conceal what was between us
And we keep our covenant despite being hidden