أَلا يا حَماماتِ الأَراكَةِ وَالبانِ

تَرَفَّقنَ لا تُضعِفنَ بِالشَجوِ أَشجاني

O doves of the shrines and temples,

Be gentle, do not weaken my love with laments,

تَرَفَّقنَ لا تُظهِرنَ بِالنوحِ وَالبُكا

خَفِيَّ صَباباتي وَمَكنونَ أَحزاني

Be gentle, do not reveal in wailing and crying,

My hidden passions and my secret sorrows,

أُطارِحُها عِندَ الأَصيلِ وَبِالضُحى

بِحَنَّةِ مُشتاقٍ وَأَنَّةِ هَيمانِ

I confide them at dawn and at day break

In the cooing of a lover and the moan of a yearner,

تَناوَحَتِ الأَرواحُ في غَيضَةِ الغَضا

فَمالَت بِأَفنانٍ عَلَيَّ فَأَفناني

Souls struggled in the flood of passion,

So they inclined with seductions upon me and seduced me,

وَجاءَت مِنَ الشَوقِ المُبَرِّحِ وَالجَوى

وَمِن طُرَفِ البَلوى إِلَيَّ بِأَفنانِ

And there came to me from fervent desire and affection,

And from the side of affliction, seductions upon me,

فَمَن لي بِجَمعٍ وَالمُحَصَّبِ مِن مِنىً

وَمَن لي بِذاتِ الأُثلِ مَن لي بِنَعمانِ

So who will gather me in the valley of wishes,

And who will unite me with the most beautiful beloved, with Nu'man,

تَطوفُ بِقَلبي ساعَةً بَعدَ ساعَةٍ

لِوَجدٍ وَتَبريحٍ وَتَلثُمُ أَركاني

They revolve in my heart hour after hour,

For ecstasy, joy, kissing my temples,

كَما طافَ خَيرُ الرُسلِ بِالكَعبَةِ الَّتي

يَقولُ دَليلُ العَقلِ فها بِنُقصانِ

As the best of Messengers circumambulated the Ka'ba,

Which the guide of reason says is imperfect,

وَقَبَّلَ أَحجاراً بِها وَهُوَ ناطِقٌ

وَأَينَ مَقامُ البَيتِ مِن قَدرِ إِنسانِ

And he kissed stones wherein he is vocal,

And where is the station of the temple compared to the worth of a human?

فَكَم عَهِدَت أَن لا تَحولَ وَأَقسَمَت

وَلَيسَ لِمَخضوبٍ وَفاءٌ بِأَيمانِ

How often she vowed not to change and swore,

Yet the oath of a painted one has no loyalty,

وَمَن عَجَبِ الأَشياءِ ظَبيٌ مُبَرقَعٌ

يُشيرُ بِعُنّابٍ وَيَومي بِأَجفانِ

And the one astonished at things is a foolish simpleton,

Who gestures with a finger and hints with eyelids,

وَمَرعاهُ ما بَينَ التَرائِبِ وَالحَشا

وَيا عَجَباً مِن رَوضَةٍ وَسطَ نيرانِ

And his pasture is between superstitions and nonsense,

Strange indeed is a garden amidst fires!

لَقَد صارَ قَلبي قابِلاً كُلَّ صورَةٍ

فَمَرعىً لِغِزلانٍ وَدَيرٌ لِرُهبانِ

My heart has become receptive to every form,

A pasture for gazelles, a monastery for monks,

وَبَيتٌ لِأَوثانٍ وَكَعبَةُ طائِفٍ

وَأَلواحُ تَوراةٍ وَمُصحَفُ قُرآنِ

A house for idols, and Ka'ba of a pilgrim,

Tablets of Torah and pages of Qur’an,

أَدينُ بِدَينِ الحُبِّ أَنّي تَوَجَّهَت

رَكائِبُهُ فَالحُبُّ دَيني وَإيماني

I profess the religion of love - my spirit

Turned to its rites, so love is my religion and faith,

لَنا أُسوَةٌ في بِشرِ هِندٍ وَأُختِها

وَقَيسٍ وَلَيلى ثُمَّ مَيٍّ وَغَيلانِ

We have an exemplar in an Indian man and his sister,

And Qays and Layla, then Mayya and Ghaylan.