Abdun Bilbaab Alamma
A slave has called at the door
Hoping that you remove the grief
O my master where is high aspiration
All things are made complete through you
O my master my intellect is bewildered
Make us comprehend indication/signs
Remove from us the veils
In order that the lights are made manifest to us
This is my beauty; surpassing
This is my drink; pure
O my beloved ones enjoy
And run alongside my secrets