O your face, a hundred moons and moonlights

Do not say it is night and it is too late, hurry

Me in your shadow, O Kaaba of the soul

In every mosque, the mihrab is from the sun

I said wrong that in our mosque

Outside the door, the sun is the doorkeeper

From these seven mills, we do not seek bread

We do not drink water from this green waterwheel

He is the cause of the causes of the world

What is the warp and weft of the boast of causes?

From drunkenness, we have fallen into thousands of wells

His love pulls us out with a hook

What splendor does the gathering of the soul have

Bravo to the eye and lamp of the souls of the companions

The garden of the heart laughs from that fortunate cypress

Our blood boils from this jujube branch

Conquests within conquests within conquests

You are the key, and the truth is the key to the doors

From the fire-throwing naphtha of your love

Earth and sky tremble like mercury

Wine comes to his intoxicated ones with a claim

People gather and drive it away with a plectrum

Be silent, finish, O heart, when you saw

That that goodness does not fit in titles