I wish one day the dust upon her obode I will be,
Giving up the life distress of her visage I will be.
The animating cup from her generous hand I will take,
Ignoring the two world's, involuing her tress I will be.
I'll put my head upon her foot, kissing it till I pass away,
Up to the Resurrection Day with her Jug intoxicated I will be.
Like a moth I will be consumed around her candle forever,
Fascinated, like the drunk, by her comely visage I will be.
The day will come when in the assembly of the intoxicated rogues,
The confidant of all her secret mysteries I will be.
If my own yousef [friend] doesn't call on me,
Like Jacob distressed by his smell I will be.