That suffers not from love sleeps undisturbed,
In peaceful repose lie untroubled hearts.

I sleep with all agonies within,
Repeating my pain a distressed wail.

Out of hidden cares rooted deep inside,
Your counsel and tidings of you are indeed advice.

To you, oh Abu Khalifa, I appeal for wisdom,
Oh generous man and chivalrous soul.

Of such distinction and sublimity,
Raised high as the stars, veiled.

The shining rays and the clouds of rain,
I am perplexed by this poor life.

Within which prowl owl and crow,
I see, oh my lord, some people.

Better thought of as bones beneath the soil,
Quick to flatter, quick to sing in praise.

They feather their nests even in the funeral rite,
Their advice itself needs advice.

The words but waters of a mirage,
I fear that reproach will receive sanction.

And my heart cannot tolerate blamers,
Each who looses such a wail.

Its echoes heard from the highest peaks,
A howl that drops the fastest fleetfooted camel.

The rest lie hidden in their abode,
When the morning breezes blow past so tender.

The fervour in my heart extends its aura,
And adds to my loneliness, worry and estrangement.