By your pure soul, O mine of generosity and fidelity

That I have no patience without you, O dear one, come!

What place is there for patience, when even if this patience were Mount Qaf

It would be annihilated like snow from the sun of separation

From the time of Adam to the time of the one-eyed Dajjal

The soul of this servant has not been (and will not be) surrendered except to you

Whether you believe it or say it is not so

I have the fidelity of your love in my pure soul

Do not blame me if I speak at length

Perhaps the state of this servant may be revealed to you

For there is a fire that boils my pot

From which it would split (the pot) if it reaches the roof of the sky

Even though the roof of the sky, from its sun and fire

Has not been damaged, and its face has not become dark from its heat

A stream of blood has flowed from my being

I have no news of where it is from or where it is to

What shall I say to the stream, 'O stream, do not go,' what battle shall I wage?

Go, tell the sea, 'Do not boil, O sea!'

By the right of those sweet lips that you breathe into me

That this oboe has no control over its wailing

Be silent, and do not set fire to this thicket

(For) you cannot bear it, you wail before him alone