مَولايَ أَشكو إِلَيكَ داءً

أَصبح قَلبي بِهِ قَريحا

My Master, I complain to You of an illness

That has made my heart sick and distressed.

إِن لَم يُرِحهُ رِضاك عَنّي

فَلست ُأَدري لَهُ مُريحا

If Your pleasure with me does not heal it,

I know not what healer can give it rest.

سُخطُك قَد زادَني سَقاما

فاِبعَث إِلَيَّ الرِضى مسيحا

Your displeasure has increased my sickness.

Send me then Your pleasure as a cure,

وَاِغفِر ذنوبي ولا تُضيِّق

عَن حَملِها صَدركَ الفسيحا

And forgive my sins, do not be strict

In holding me to account, this I implore.

لَو صَوَّر اللَهُ لِلمَعالي

جسماً لأصبَحتَ فيهِ روحا

If God were to give the exalted ideals

A body, You would be its living soul.