كتابُ الشَّوقِ يطويهِ الفؤادُ

ومن فيضِ الدموعِ لهُ مِدادُ

The book of longing, folded by the heart,

And from the overflow of tears, it has ink.

تخطُّ يدُ البكاءِ به سطوراً

على كبدي ويُمْليها السُّهادُ

The hand of crying writes with it lines,

Upon my liver, dictated by wakefulness.

وكيف بي فؤادٌ مستطيرٌ

لمن لا يستطيرُ له فؤادُ

And how can I have a heart set free,

For one whose heart cannot be set free for him.

أمِن يَمن يكونُ الجودُ خِلواً

وإبراهيمُ حاتمُها الجَوادُ

Who can have generosity as a nature,

While Abraham is its most generous one.

زِيارتُهُ لمن يأتيهِ حَجٌّ

ومِدحتُهُ رِباطٌ أو جهادُ

Visiting him is a duty for whoever visits him,

And praising him is an obligation or jihad.

وما لي في التخلُّفِ عنهُ عُذرٌ

ولي في الأرضِ راحلةٌ وزادُ

And I have no excuse for staying behind from him,

While I have on earth a riding animal and provision.