That lord, in our lane, his foot is stuck in the mud,

Let me tell you his condition; read 'When the decree comes'.

Arrogantly and stoutly, he went, dragging his skirt,

Mocking the lovers, having seen love as a plaything.

Many a flying bird in the air, free and separate from traps,

Comes, from the grip of fate, the arrow of calamity upon its wing.

O lord, you became intoxicated, you winked at the lovers (mockingly),

Intoxicated with your own lordship, you wrestled with God.

He has raised his head to the heavens, and is unaware of his destiny,

His purse is full of silver and gold, his ear full of the desire for eternal life.

From the kisses on his hand, and the prostrations at his feet,

And from the flattery of poets, and the babbling of every prattler.

Generosity may have an affliction, which brings arrogance in youth,

Makes him sick from conceit, in the flattery of every beggar.

He gives dirhams in generosity; he did not create those dirhams,

From the wealth and property of another, where can a man's generosity be?

He has become a Pharaoh and a Shaddad, a bag full of wind,

Give an ant (power), it becomes a snake, and that snake becomes a dragon.

Love, from its holiness, is like the staff of Moses,

Which devours the dragon when Moses throws down the staff.

For the lord, the face of the earth opened, (and) from the heavens, an ambush,

An arrow struck him, from the wound of which he became bent double like a bow.

He fell on his face at that moment from the blow of the heavy wound,

Gurgling like epileptics in the throes of death and annihilation.

Disgraced, naked, the enemy wept over him,

His relatives wailing over him like mourners.

Give (him) the arrogance of Pharaoh and Nimrod, (saying) 'I am God!',

His neck broken, he has come to 'O Lord' and 'O our Lord'.

His face has turned saffron-colored, a wound not on his body,

Except for the suggestive glance of a sugar-lipped, sweet-faced one (the beloved).

Is his arrow more wonderful, or his bow? Is his eye emptier, or his mouth?

Is he more faithless, or the world? Is he more veiled, or the Homa bird?

Now I will tell the secret of the soul in the test of lovers,

Hidden from lock and chain, listen, open your ears!

When will you open your ear? Where is the ear for the one who is bewildered?

Intelligence is not sincere except by 'God does what He wills'.

This lord has become hoarse, his wings broken like a mosquito

Lamenting from the love of Aisha, saying, 'My two eyes weep'.

'We are ruined after you, woe to us after you!'

'Life is hateful without you, return to us with contentment!'

Intellect is mortgaged to you; is there any voice that can heal the sorrow?

And the heart is tested by you, in the midst of the fires of separation.

O lord, with hands and feet, your foot is broken by fate

You have broken many hearts; retribution has come upon your foot.

Consider this as a favor, that harm has come from the lane of love

The passage of metaphorical love is an end to true love.

A warrior gives a wooden sword into the hand of his son

So that he may become skilled in it, (and then) take up a sword in battle.

The love that is upon a human being is like that wooden sword

That love becomes (love) with the Merciful One when the final trial comes.

The love of Zulaikha initially came upon Joseph for years

Ultimately, that love became (love of) God, (and she) turned her back on Joseph.

Joseph fled, and she grabbed at his shirt

It was torn from his pull, contrary to the initial situation.

She said to him, 'I have taken the retribution of the shirt from you today'

He said, 'The majesty of love turns many things like this over.'

(Love) makes the sought-after a seeker, (it makes) the defeated a victor

How many a supplicant that God, out of generosity, made the direction of supplication.

Speech has become subtle here; breath does not fit in the mouth

I intend to speak paradoxically; here, deception may be permissible.

He (God) strikes; who am I? I am a form of dust

The sand-reader draws a correct or incorrect figure on the dust.

Leave this aside; look at the lord, (see) what he says to me

'Love has set fire to (my) beard; why have you abandoned us?'

O lord, possessor of a (fortunate) foot, if I went, now I have come

So that, in this end of time, I may tell your condition openly.

Ultimately, what will a deluded one say except (that he is) a particle from the sun

A drop from the Red Sea, from this endless story?

When a drop shows itself to you, the rest becomes known to you

From the warehouse, a handful of wheat is offered for sale

When you see a handful, without seeing the rest, you know it

You know it, and you know how it will become, when it returns from the mill

You are an ancient warehouse, put your hand in this warehouse

See what kind of wheat it is, and then bring it to the mill

This world is like a mill, this world is like a threshing floor

There you will only wear out (your body), whether (you produce) wheat or beans

Go, abandon this (life), O Egypt, and see, the lord is waiting

Who is leaving (work) half-done, urging and calling out

O lord, how are you? Tell (me), where is the weary one in this very turbulent place?

Fallen in dust and blood, helpless and afflicted

He said, "Help! O Muslims, guard your hearts! Listen!

My blood has been shed, so that this (fate) may not befall you

I have greatly reproached the lovers in their fever

With a chest full of deceit and malice, I have said many curses

Woe to every slanderer, for every evil tongue

For the backbiter, the fault-finder, there is no cure except punishment

When is that the mouth of a man? It is the hole of a snake and a scorpion

Put clay in that hole, do not put scorpions on (your) relatives

In love, abandon your desires, abandon grains and traps

Call the stone gold, give thanks for the title, not for injustice