What is this thirst that cannot be quenched,
By light that shines and secrets in taste (dhawq) recited?

I have erased all the pasts and the futures,
For you are all my wishes.

O my remembrance (dhikrī) and my silence (ṣamtī),
O my presence (ḥuḍūrī) and my absence (ghaybatī),

O my thoughts (fikrī) and my musings (khāṭirī),
O all that my eye (ʿaynī) beholds.

Your meanings never leave my soul's embrace,
Not in my sleep, nor in my wakefulness.

You have taken all that I possess,
My hearing, my sight, my hands, and my legs.

In the garment of Eid, you have clothed me,
And with a robe of agate (ʿaqīq) adorned me.

With your light, you extinguished my fires,
And planted gardens of eternity (khuld) and rivers.

Then my mind (ʿaqlī) grasped in a moment from eternity's glance,
That you are me, the essence of my very essence.

The gaze upon the beauty of your countenance,
That is for your servant the day of abundance (al-mazīd).

Some of your beauty made me intoxicated, free,
It took away my mind (ʿaqlī) and all of me.

It made me forget my companions (akhillāʾī) and my kin (ahlī),
My neighborhood (ḥayyī) and my home (baytī) where once I've been.

O all of me,
Beyond name (ism) or description (waṣf), unbound.

Your closeness (qurb) only increases my thirst,
And does not heal the wound of my love, cursed.

This is a tale told, O dear, sincerely,
Of a youth (fatan) enamored with al-Karkari.

Inform them, O confidants, that I have no patience (ṣabr),
For the separation (firaq) from my beloved and essence.

For that is my homeland (waṭanī) bright,
And otherwise, my blood is lawful and plight.