Your Beauty, the Root of My Longing

The lovely lines and mole of your face are the source of my madness; a single breath spent with you is the root of all I want. The moment longing for you steps into the kingdom of my soul, patience leaps out from my lovesick heart. Now that love's royal canopy has cast its shadow over me, if you look for me, ask the way to the tavern. With your beautiful face here as the shrine for everyone, my Christian sweetheart, let there be no other Kaaba. I am one of the wandering, carefree gypsy folk: who am I, and what is bowing in prayer? My light, reckless mind has decided to flee. Tell that cold, gloomy Sufi not to bother me; you keep your prayer niche of piety, I'll keep my cross. Don't set the heavy wine cup out of your hand, Obeyd, for our life is running off on quick, light feet.