The amorous glance of your love brings to this a needy one

Who does not weigh any crown-wearer against a barleycorn

The lover weaves brocade and silk from the blood of his liver

So that he may draw brocade and silk under the feet of the beloved

Where in the heart of the lover will you find the sorrow of both worlds?

What value does the chief of the pilgrims have before the Meccan?

Love is a ladder towards the roof of the sultan of beauty

Read the story of the ascension from the face of the lover

Life exists by hanging on, like fruit from a tree

That is why you see two hundred Hallajs hanging

If the knowledge of the present state were not above mere words, how would it be

For the servant of the rabbis of Bukhara to be the master of the weaver?

O you simpleton, do not seize the beard of the shark in battle

Do not teach the Turkish Hindu that king of Tamghaj

Like the queen in chess, crooked in movement and with a black face on the king's board

Is the one who is teaching chess to the stammerer

O you who became a Mirkhwan (a spiritual leader) to the drowning ones

What fault do you find with the tEtmaaj (a kind of food) on such a table?

The distraught lover says that in the city of the heart

Love constantly commits this plunder and pillage

Be quiet, for the nightingale of his love is singing melodies

What place does the call of the francolin have before the nightingale?