كِتَابٌ فِيهِ خَطكِ فِيهِ حَظِّى

فآتٍ مِنكِ حَمَّ بِهِ افتِتَاني

A book in which your handwriting, in it is my fortune

So I come to you ardently desiring it

وَأطرَبُ إِن أتَاني مِنكِ حَتَّى

كَأنَّكِ قَد أتَيتِ إِذ أتَاني

And I rejoice if anything comes to me from you, as if

You had come when it came to me

وَظلتُ لأن بَنانَكِ لاَمَسَتهُ

اُمِرُّ بِكُلِّ أحرُفِهِ بَناني

And I remained because your fingers touched it

Commanded by all its letters, my fingers

وَهدَّمني تَشَوقكُم وَلمَّا

لَثِمَت شِفَاهَ أحرُفِكُم بَناني

And your longing destroyed me, and when

The lips of your letters kissed my fingers