If my grave were at the threshold of the beloved, everyone, even my enemies, would revere me enough to prostrate, and that doorstep would have become the Kaaba.

Here, the poet paints a wonderfully audacious picture of love and longing. He dreams that if only his final resting place were at his beloved's threshold, that spot would gain the sacred status of the Kaaba itself. In doing so, his devotion would become so revered that even his fiercest rivals would have no choice but to bow down in reverence. It is a tender mix of romantic devotion and the sweet triumph of a lover's surrender.