O morning breeze,
Beside your beauty’s charm is my heart
Gird it! Entangle me in the web of love!
For into your love’s servitude, I wish to go
And the sherbet of your lips, I wish to worship – it’s a religion!
Fall back all suitors! Khadija is within my soul – A Ka’ba she is to me!
A lion’s javelin I shall throw if my beloved is approached
O you whose beauty takes me prisoner
And consumes my pining heart in flames of love
Your face and tresses are a king’s delight
Nightingale of the night,
The aroma of your voice,
So sweet and soothing as the Messiah’s breath
Is the seven goddesses of Hellenistic World’s melody
And your sable tresses,
Full of Flowers of Taif
Is the royal perfume of the Pharaohs
Lull my inner sorrows to repose
Mi orgullo and drighten of my soul,
In the sea of grief – I crave for solace from you – please do not forsake me!
Here’s a keffiyeh – here’s a thobe or kandura
Your curvy body I yearn to see
Into your heart’s prison,
I am girded – Please keep me from the world of separation
I relinquish – a willing slave, I come before you
O Azrael, angel of death carrying a scythe
And carrying souls to the afterlife
Here’s my breath, here’s my soul
Take them – sleep of the just let my soul bear!
Spare my dear love’s life!
Pierce her not with the arrow of melancholiness !
For a thousand souls I shall extinguish if her soul is assailed
Foes upbraid me with the love I have for you
Why have you decided to endure the taint of jaildom?
Can’t you see?
Both your soul and life is guided by her will
Free yourself you son of a schmuck!
O headless man, why have you lost the creator’s – sense-restoration cup?
Wake up and show what you have found in love of sorrow and ignorance!
Failure stares at you!
But I tell them:
Is there any sense in lapidating one who is smitten with a lady?
My soul has found a dwelling in her heart where love is in its place
And her face, a spectrum of serenity and light
My soul is at ease when I smell her amber scented lock
Can a man ever avoid such mithridate?
An hour spent with my love is a pilgrimage of honour and prestige!
What am I if I let go of her?
Even a schmuck will curse the day I was born!
For he who shuns a king’s delight is either fiend or goblin
O Khadija, once again, my heart is beside your beauty’s charm
Into your love’s servitude, you can take it in
But the cup of separation do not give it!