1. My tears and laments are eternal,
Though the sandal of the Prophet is peerless.

2. What else but misguidance can the eyes see
In anyone who parts from His guidance?

3. It is peerless, that blessed sandal,
And kissing it is the highest honor.

4. Yearning has overcome me, so I kiss it,
Though my witness is its kiss alone.

5. I share in wearing his noble sandal,
My safeguard and gift being this honor.

6. I bound my love to it and my resolve;
If that binding fails, no resolve avails me.

7. I rubbed my gray hair upon it so
My laments might be wiped by mercy's dew.

8. Pressing it against my eyes and face,
Raising it unto my head gives glory.

9. My share of bliss is in the Prophet’s nearness.
After that, is any bliss or gift left?