I die, but my passion for Thee dieth not.
Unfulfilled are my longings to drink deep Thy love.
My desires are the essence of all desire; Thou art they;
And Thou art riches, all riches, for me in my beggary.
Thou art the goal of my quest, the full scope of my wish
The theme of my plaint, the hidden depths of my consciousness
Burdened through Thee is my heart with what I tell not,
Howso long be my ailing for Thee and my constraint.
And from Thee, in my breast is what clearly Thou seest.
Though its clarity is not clear unto kinsman or neighbour;
And within me a spreading sickness hath weakened my frame
And my secret confiding unto Thee is poured forth.
Art Thou not guide to lost travellers in bewilderment.
And saviour from the brink of the crumbling precipice?
Whom Thou guidest. Thou lightest their way, when themselves
They have not one tenth of one tenth of the light.
Vouchsafe me then favour, that in its nearness I may live.
Help me with ease from Thee, my hardship to repel.
(Dhun-Nun Thawban al-Misri)