A Longing
O Lord! I have become weary of human assemblages! When the heart is sad no pleasure in assemblages can be
I seek escape from tumult, my heart desires The silence which speech may ardently love!
I vehemently desire silence, I strongly long that A small hut in the mountain’s side may there be
Freed from worry I may live in retirement Freed from the cares of the world I may be
Birds’ chirping may give the pleasure of the lyre In the spring’s noise may the orchestra’s melody be
The flower bud bursting may give God’s message to me Showing the whole world to me this small win-cup may be
My arm may be my pillow, and the green grass my bed be Putting the congregation to shame my solitude’s quality be
The nightingale be so familiar with my face that Her little heart harboring no fear from me may be
Avenues of green trees standing on both sides be The spring’s clear water providing a beautiful picture be
The view of the mountain range may be so beautiful To see it the waves of water again and again rising be
The verdure may be asleep in the lap of the earth Water running through the bushes may glistening be
Again and again the flowered boughs touching the water be As if some beauty looking at itself in mirror be
When the sun apply myrtle to the evening’s bride The tunic of every flower may pinkish golden be
When night’s travelers falter behind with fatigue Their only hope my broken earthenware lamp may be
May the lightning lead them to my hut When clouds hovering over the whole sky be.
The early dawn’s cuckoo, that morning’s mu’adhdhin May my confidante he be, and may his confidante I be
May I not be obligated to the temple or to the mosque May the hut’s hole alone herald of morning’s arrival be
When the dew may come to perform the flowers’ ablution May wailing my supplication, weeping my ablution be
In this silence may my heart’s wailing rise so high That for stars’ caravan the clarion’s call my wailing be
May every compassionate heart weeping with me be Perhaps it may awaken those who may unconscious be