O you who have spoken secrets in my heart

And who have done mature deeds for the servant

O your thought, the comforter of breasts

O your beauty, the splendor of rose gardens

O the gift of your joy-giving hand

Has taken the hand of this poor one many times

O your palm like the sea, giver of jewels

Has plucked thorns from the sole of my foot

O you who have exchanged many heads

When they give turbans for your sake

What indeed are both worlds before you?

A grain fallen from the granaries

The sun of grace, world-nurturing

Has made sacrifices on every particle

There is no remedy except helplessness

Even though we devise tricks and remedies

When the lights of Shams Tabrizi shone

We are safe from hell and from fires