Where is the quick-witted, wise musician of love?

Who plays from love, not from demand.

People die in hope, and I have not seen this

I have gone to the grave with this longing.

O dear friend, if you have seen him

Blessed are you, O beloved, blessedness.

And if he is hidden like Khidr

Alone on the shores of the sea.

O wind, carry our greetings to him

For in our hearts there is a tumult from him.

I know that burning greetings

Will bring the lovers to the beloved.

Love is the revolving of the heavens, not from water

Love is the path of the moon, not from feet.

In remembrance, it comes into revolution

With the water of the eyes, the heavens of souls revolve.

Remembrance is the rope of union with the beloved

Be silent, for passion has boiled over.