Your form appears most beautiful to my eyes, my Lord, though I have not seen you.
Your words are most soothing to my ears, my Lord, though they have not caught your voice even once.
Your name tastes sweetest to my lips, my Lord, though they don’t know how to pronounce it.
Your knowledge is most precious to my mind, my Lord, though it knows not an iota about you.
Destiny will not permit me a vision of yours and the burning anguish of your separation will consume me like the wax of a candle.
I know that I have to bear this denunciation, before your final call: To rest in your motherly lap and forget all the unrest incurred to the mind.