Do you not like me as much as I like?
My love offends and does not blame
And I seek his satisfaction over his iniquity
I refuse and it becomes difficult
I blame your ransom, sinner
I made you cry and get tired
I bore you and your sins
And I knew that I was the culprit
Humiliate, if it pleases you
My food, without you, they were tortured
Isn’t the Lord asking us to come?
Our father on her who asks
We wanted your satisfaction by upsetting her
And I miss you from her presence.
Do you not like me as much as I do – the poet Al-Buhturi
