Present to that king of the sugar house

That bright pearl, the precious one

That king with the auspicious, matchless face

That moon with the sea-hearted, beloved soul

He gives spirit to the decayed dead

He gives affection to the foreign breast

He fills the skirt of every thorn with flowers

He gives reason to the madman's head

He puts in the wisdom of a two-day-old child

What is not in the heart of the wise

What child is it, unless you deny

The clamor of the Hananeh pillar

You become drunk and become the king of the drunkards

When he turns the cup

I am beside myself, drunk, and scattered of mind

Otherwise, I would tell the tale well

Hear with everyone what must be heard

The sweet, strange tale

May that face break the heart of the moon

May that tress break two hundred combs

Who dares to tell the story of that eye

The enchanting, sorcerer-slaying seductress

His eye sees what will happen

He sees the forehead forever

Don't tell the secret, go and make yourself a foreigner

Remember that lord of Ali's way

The celestial sphere, with all its work and grandeur

Turns around God like a millstone

Circle around such a Kaaba, O soul

Circle around such a banquet, O beggar

Like a ball, circle around his field

When you become exhilarated, without hands and feet

Circle around this king with your horse and gear

Even though you move back and forth on this board

He put the ring of your kingship on your finger

So that you become a ruler and commander

Whoever circles around the heart

Becomes the soul of the world and a heart-ravisher

The heart-stricken one becomes the companion of the moth

And circles around the heads of candles

Because his body is of earth and his heart is of fire

Like attracts like

Every star circles around the sky

Because purity is attracted to purity

The soul of the poor circles around annihilation

Like iron and a magnet

Because annihilation is existence before him

His vision is cleansed from fear and error

The drunkard was making ablution with urine

Saying, 'O Lord, release me from my impurity'

He said, 'First, know what impurity is'

Prayer should not be crooked and reversed

Because it is a key, and if the key becomes crooked

You will not find the gift of the lock opening

I became silent, everyone jumped up

My idol, with a cypress-like stature, gave the call

The king of Tabriz, my king, Shams of religion

I have closed my lips, come and open them