Is it the perfume shop or the pathway of the Beloved?
Is it the illuminating moon of the banquet or the face of the Beloved?
Are you coming from her abode oh the morning breeze?
That you are so animating and so odorous.
Glance amourously! to bestow me some hope,
Grace! Oh friend to this weak and void lovelorn.
The rival has opened the door of the tavern to me,
Oh rose-faced! Give me a cup by your own hand.
If the cup is lost, there is the jar of wine,
Open the opening of the jar and from my soul the obsession unload.
If you do me a favour I'll take off this hypocricy patched garment,
I put my head upon your feet and this patched garment I will fold.