أَيَّتُها النَفسُ إِلَيهِ اِذهَبي

فَما لِقَلبي عَنهُ مِن مَذهَبِ

O soul, go to Him

For my heart has no other refuge

مُفَضَّضُ الثَغرِ لَهُ نُقطَةٌ

مِن عَنبَرٍ في خَدِّهِ المُذهَبِ

His parted lips have a spot

Of ambergris on his gilded cheek

أَنسانِيَ التَوبَةَ مِن حُبِّهِ

طُلوعُهُ شَمساً مِنَ المَغرِبِ

His beauty makes me forget repentance

His rising is a sun from the west