Except the curve of the Beloved's eyebrow no altar I have,
Except her disunion I have no other worrying.
I waited to dream her sun- like face,
The yearing to see this dream did not fade away as the sleep I have not.
I put my head upon the dust of her abode, I give my life for the memory of her visage,
Head and life are worthless no rare things I have.
To whom do I confide my secret, from whom do I seek the soul's mystery?
Except you, oh my soul, any conifidant I have not.
I have thurst for your love, I need the enlivening wine,
Whatever I see is nothing but mirage no water I have.
Due to your love I am distressed and I am lacking interest,
You made me talk chaotically, no formalities I have.