Someone gathered grain in the month of Mordad

Relieving his mind from the worries of winter

One night he got drunk and lit a fire

Unfortunate his hut, he burned his harvest

The next day he sat gleaning ears of grain

Not a single barley grain remained from his harvest

When they saw the deranged dervish

Someone said to his companion

If you don't want to be as unfortunate as this

Don't foolishly burn your own harvest

If your life has been lost in evil

You are the one who set fire to the harvest

It is disgraceful to gather ears of grain

After burning your own harvest

O my dear, sow the seeds of faith and justice

Do not let the harvest of a good name be scattered by the wind

When a turned-fortune person falls into bondage

The fortunate ones take a lesson from him

Before punishment, seek forgiveness

For crying under the rod is of no use

Raise your head from the collar of heedlessness

So that tomorrow you won't be ashamed in front of others