Break our harp, O exalted one!

There are thousands of other harps here

Since we have fallen into the clutches of love

What less will come upon us, harp and oboe?

If the rebec and harp of the world burn

Many hidden harps there are, my friend

The twanging and strumming have gone to the heavens

Even if it does not come to the ear of the deaf

If the lamp and candle of the world die

What sorrow, since grief, like stone and iron, remains

On the face of the sea, the songs are like chaff

No jewel comes on the surface of the sea

But consider the grace of the chaff from the jewel

For the reflection of the reflection of its lightning is upon us

All songs are a branch of the yearning for union

The branch and the root are never equal

Close your mouth and open the window of your heart

Be eloquent with the spirits through that path