Someone asked the one who had lost his son,

O wise old man of bright essence,

You smelled the scent of his shirt from Egypt,

Why did you not see him in the well of Canaan?!

He said: Our condition is like the lightning of the world,

One moment it appears, and the next it is hidden.

Sometimes we sit on the highest balcony,

Sometimes we cannot see the back of our own feet.

If a dervish remained in one state,

He would shake off both worlds from the back of his hand.