يا عَبدَ حُبُّكِ شَفَّني شَفّا

وَالحُبُّ داءٌ يورِثُ الحَتفا

O servant, your love has cured me, cured me,

And love is an illness that leads to perdition.

وَالحُبُّ يُخفيهِ المُحِبُّ لِكَي

لا يُستَرابُ بِهِ وَما يَخفى

And the lover conceals his love so that

He will not be suspected, though nothing is hidden.