To look on thy country, O sweet, and return.
What brought thee from thy country, single, alone?
I want to look on thy country and I want a friend.
Our dear ones, because of their ambition, they left us;
Because of scarcity of money they traded among us.
O heart, leave them, count them as dead;
I put them in my eye and they did not fit.
O seller of coffee, I want a ruṭl of thy coffee;
Yesterday afternoon I saw the woman who bought of thee.
O daughter of the Arab shaykh, O wearer of the blue mantle,