Stick your head out of the window of the soul, see the lovers

Make the libertines aware of the morning draughts of the king

From the favors of that life-giving king of ours

Give new life to our striving, obedience, and charity

When the favors of Abraham are the helper

How can beheading be harmful to Isaac, O heart?

I saw an arch and a palace, our king in it like the moon

Images were growing and disappearing in that arch

The dominance of souls there, back to back

The color of faces was saying those tastes without a tongue

The taste of intoxication and storytelling and spiritual dance became cold again

When they suddenly saw the moon of good morals

When our king saw the servants sitting at the door

And that door of a form that gives despair to the desirous

Our king struck a hand and broke that door in such a way that

No one else's eye sees the bond or the closing

The pieces of that broken door became green and fresh

The touch of the king's hand appeared, there is no burning for it

The garment of the soul that was washed from the water of his mouth

What will the hand and favor of the fine cloth maker do?

The one to whom a secret message came from him in his imprisonment

Is intoxicated with that, he will not want the promise of release

When the scent of his soul reaches the eternal barren

Quickly from pleasure becomes worthy of being attached

He is the king of the soul, the lord of the heart and the secret, Shams al-Din

Whose place became Tabriz, that spring of the portico

O Lord, do not strike me in my separation for your soul

Like a cat, look at that meat on the hanger

And if not, I will fill the world with reproaches and wailings

From the separation of serving that king of mine, the horizons

The separation of your foot has torn the curtain of my patience

Tearing the habit was in the grace of this handkerchief