The breeze, its scent is like the wild, and it is intoxicating. If I could return sometimes, I would be loved. O breeze, travel with kindness, a sea of love for him in every garden. It adorns the cheeks of the rose, making them shine, a greeting from her, a garment of argan. Before the earth of a spacious garden, where my soul and basil find paradise. The poison of separation, so is there any solace for the heart? By what means can the distance be so vast? In the eyes, there is a cure and sorrow. His heart, the love of travelers, is departing, towards Taybah and the mountains that gleam. The rose is only tormented by his sweetness, and he has no joy except in Nu'man. O best of creation, Arab and non-Arab, and best of verses and the Furqan. May you, O best of God's creation, intercede for me on the Day of Judgment, for I am a sinful transgressor. And you are my hope, and it is easy for me to do deeds of meeting, hoping for a scale. May a noble one be adopted in you, who will sweeten me with intercession and certainty against the fire. And in the House, performing Umrah, my time will help me with possibility. And a vision of the Messenger of God, turning, that tomb which enveloped me in light. And what honor for a heart that does not yearn for him, and a part of him is a yearning for the eager. And the full moon is his splendor, and the dew is his word, and my heart and the stars are adorned with clarity.