Abu al-Atahiya. (№ 191720)

Indifferent to my suffering brethren,
My troubles, troubles, my sobs.
Let them curse, reproach love for you
They sorrows, torments, my desire?
My insatiable disease, old disease,
Hopeless, empty my expectations.
It was all loathsome if you're far away.
Without you I am in exile and oblivion.
Running out of patience, immense sadness.
I balm of consolation open, not tai.
Persistent sadness, and grief bitter
Go back and drink the living water.
Wake up alone - at the bedside are
Expectations, desires, my anguish!