What if my beautiful beloved takes my hand tomorrow?

And peeps through the window like a beautiful full moon?

My life-giver enters and opens my hands and feet,

For my hands and feet were bound by the ever-present palm of separation.

I say to him, "By your life, without you, O life of my soul,"

"Neither pleasure makes me happy nor wine makes me drunk."

And if, out of coquetry, he says, "Go, what do you want from me?"

"I am afraid of your passion, lest it join my own passion."

I will bring a sword and shroud before him and, like a sacrifice, place my neck (before him),

"Since you have a headache from me, intentionally strike my neck."

You know that without you, I do not want life.

For me, death is better than separation, by God, the expeller of death.

I could not believe that you would turn away from your servant.

I kept saying, "These are lies and slanders spoken by enemies."

You are my soul, and without a soul, I surely do not know how to live.

You are my eye, and without you, I do not have a seeing eye.

Let go of these words; O musician, play a melody.

Bring forth the rebec and the tambourine if you do not have a zurna (shawm).