I call you, beloved, but you don’t hear, I appear for you but you don’t see,

I am the perfume on the scented air But you don’t smell it,

I am the flavour of your food but you taste nothing. What’s amiss with you that you don’t touch me

In what is touchable?

You don’t sense me in smells,

You don’t see me,

What’s amiss with you, what’s amiss, what’s amiss? Everyone wants you for himself,

Me, I want you for yourself

But you flee my presence, o beloved!