إِنّي مَشوقٌ إِلى رُؤيا الحَبيبِ وَقَد

طالَ البِعادُ فَزَادَت فيهِ أَشجاني

Indeed, I yearn to behold the beloved, and already

the separation has grown long, increasing my sorrows.

أَوَدُّ لَوَ اِنَّهُ يَوماً يُقَطِّعُني

مِن نَحوِ وَجهي وَلَو ما كنتُ بِالجاني

I wish that one day he might cut me to pieces,

coming at me face-to-face, though I had done no wrong—

مُصَغِّراً قِطَعِي في مِديَةٍ صَدِئت

كَليلَةِ الحدِّ لَم تَقطَع بِجُثمانِ

making my pieces ever smaller with a rusted knife,

blunt-edged, one that has never cut through a body;

وَأَن يديرَ لِظَهري حينَ يَقطَعُهُ

وَجهي وَأَنّي أَراهُ مِنهُ بِالدّاني

and that, toward my back as he cuts it, he turn

my face, so that I may behold him close at hand;

وَأَن يَطول في تَقطيعِهِ زمناً

عَساهُ يَملَأ مِن رُؤياهُ أَجفاني

and that he take a long while cutting me,

that perhaps my eyes may be filled with the sight of him.