My Lord, I am at your door, my hand extended.
Who do I have, to escape to in refuge, except You, my support.
I awake at night. The dawn, tranquil.
I pray, and the whisper of my prayer is damp with tears.
In the light of Your Face I fearfully seek refuge.
And whosoever seeks refuge in You shall forever know no misery.
No matter how much I meet of this world and its material,
You are to me a fixation, distracting me from that which my body sees.
Sweetened is the bitterness of living whilst in Your contentment,
And I could never bear Your displeasure even if life were most comfortable.
Who do I have but You? And who but You sees my heart and hears it?
All of creation is but a shadow in the Hand of the Eternal.
I call You, my Lord – so forgive my mistake, out of Your generosity,
And let my prayer’s mediator be my good faith in You.
And attend to my state, in such fear and in such hope –
For after Allah, can there be anyone who forgives the slave?
My Lord, I am at your door, my hand extended.
Who do I have, to escape to in refuge, except You, my support.