الْمَقَامَةُ الْوبرية

Neither a friend of Sarouji nor a saddle beast were there.

Bẹẹ náà ní kò sí ará Saruji kan tàbí nkan gùn (Ràkúnmí ) níbẹ̀.

I spent the night in a state of Nabighian anxiety and Jacobian sorrow.

Mo lo òru náà bí Nabiga (Pẹlu orin ìbànújẹ Nabiga) àti ìbànújẹ́ ọkàn Yakubu.

I wrestled with silence and competed by awakening with the stars.

Mo bá ìdákẹ́jẹ́ jà, mo ṣe àìsùn pẹ̀lú àwọn ìràwọ̀.

Sometimes thinking about my journey, and other times about my return.

Nígbà míràn mo ń rò nípa ìrìnàjò mi, nígbà míràn nípa ipadà mi.

Until it became clear to me at the breaking of dawn.

Títí ó fi di mímọ̀ fún mi nígbà tí ìmọ̀lẹ̀ òwúrọ̀ yọ.

In the face of the sky.

Nínú ojú ọ̀run.

A rider moving through the light.

Ẹlẹṣin kan tí ń rìn nípasẹ̀ ìmọ̀lẹ̀.

I signaled to him with my garment.

Mo fi aṣọ mi tọ̀ká sí i.

And hoped he would turn towards me.

Mo sì retí pé yóò yí padà sí ọ̀dọ̀ mi.

But he did not heed my signal.

Ṣùgbọ́n kò fiyè sí ìtọ̀ká mi.