Our desert has no edge

Our heart and soul have no rest

World within world took on form and image

Which of these images is ours?

When you see a severed head on the road

That rolls towards our field

Ask it, ask it about our secrets

That you may hear from it the mystery hidden from us

What would it be if you became a single visible ear

A match for the tongues of our birds?

What would it be if you became a flying bird

Go, the ring on the head of our Solomon

What shall I say, what do I know, for this story

Is beyond our limit and possibility

How shall I breathe, when every breath

Is more scattered than this scattered state of ours?

What partridges and falcons are flying in the highlands

In the air of our mountainous region

In the midst of the air that is the seventh heaven

That above its peak is our palace

Pass over this story, do not ask me

For our epic has been broken

The righteousness of the Truth and religion will show you

The beauty of our king of kings and sultan