Come to me softly
Her:
You, the bloomed Qaydar tree,
drenched by a rain,
leaves a fragrant wind which shakes,
You, my qudhac flowers
You are the one
I’ve chosen,
The one I desire.
You who my soul follows
You will soon be refreshed
So come to me slowly.
Him:
You who are sweet like
the mareer fruit
That grows with beauty
And fragrant like the Qawl
You who cool
My smouldering heart
Covered in wounds
You the precious one
You will soon be refreshed
So come to me slowly
Her:
You who are like
the rain overflowing
the channels
In a lush green
You, who are a vessel full of ghee
Of which I’ve taken my share —
You, my strong ram.
You who my soul follows
You will be refreshed
So come to me slowly.
Him:
You who are
a rainbow,
sashes of colours,
And the freshly-fallen rain
You who are spring’s greenery,
With new shoots for grazing
And on places to camp.
You, the precious one.
You will be refreshed
So come to me slowly.