from Ibn al-`Arabi, Turjuman selections, translated by Michael Sells

Poem #27
vvv
translated 30 December 03, 21 October 04, 30 October 04

Old camp high above
is a light from our heart
toward you beckoning.

O the long, empty reaches
I have crossed! complain I,
sending tears my messengers.

I journey by night no rest
on the way, roping the dawns
parting the dusks,

Camels through the night
striding, hoof-bruised
and lame, hard striding.
.
These my carriers take me to you
in longing, without hope
they'll ever arrive.

They cut through the endless
reach of the sands, in frenzy,
without complaint, untiring,

No groan from the pain
inside burning. I'm the one
who moans he's weary,
uttering inane.