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You unveil your face, reveal your radiance,
your glance strikes me like lightning.
Storms of longing sweep through my heart
and I weep through the night. But if I don’t
see your face, desire obscures my heart —
this lamp remains unlit.
Caught in the tendrils of your presence
I find no comfort, no hope anywhere.
The flowers in my garden wait to bloom
until my heart paints them blood-red.
Makhfi, be silent, or at least lower your voice.
The Hunter is stealthy; if he hears your song,
he’ll come and take you captive.
