A thirsty one spoke, surrendering his soul,

How blessed is the one who dies in water's role.

A young one said, 'What an odd thing to say,

How can one die with either dry or wet lips today?'

He replied, 'At last I’ll wet my mouth with water’s grace,

To preserve my soul’s sweetness in its rightful place.'

A thirsty one falls into deep waters’ hold,

Who knows if the drowned one is quenched, or cold?

If you are a lover, take his hem with care,

And if he asks for your life, take it and bear.

You’ll taste the paradise of ease and delight,

When you pass through hell, as a soul in flight.

The heart of the laborer endures with pain,

But when the harvest comes, they rest with gain.

In this gathering, the one who wins the prize,

Is the one who reaches the cup in the final rise.