He whose head is in the shadow of love

will have heaven beneath his feet.

Whose head is in the shadow of love...

Walk in the shadow.

Walk in heaven, walk in the shadow.

There's a friend who is like a sweet fragrance, 

whose words are like poetry (lit. Urdu, the language of poetry),

who is my evening, my night, my existence.

That friend is my beloved!

Sometimes (my beloved) flirts like a flower,

so fragrantly that you may see her scent.

Having made it into an charm, I will wear it. 

She shall be obtained as a miracle is obtained.

She is my song, my declaration of faith 
(kalama: the Muslim confession of faith, as in, "la ilaaha il allaah" - "there is no God but Allah").

(My friend is like a priest to me.)

My song... my declaration of faith...

She moves like the dew.

She walks with the garden of heaven beneath her feet,

sometimes through the branches, sometimes amidst the leaves.

I shall search the wind for her trail!  

I trade in her beauty. 

Fickle, she flits shamelessly from sun to shade. 

She changes her bright colors;

I negotiate that as well.