The heart came and yesterday whispered in the ear of the soul

O your name, this that cannot be said

That which is said openly is savage

That which is said in secret is burning

What excuse and pretext does he have, O soul

That one who spoke of a sign from the signless

The flower and the riotous nightingale know

The secret that was said in the rose garden

Not that one who by way of learning

Learned from the song of nightingales and spoke

The hunter called the arrows of glances

Those eyebrows like a bow

The earth brought forth a hundred kinds of tongues

In response to what the sky said

O lover, be paired with the sky

With him who spoke of the ladder

Where is the sign of that domestic witness?

Everyone spoke a word from the family

Where are the rays of the sun's disk?

Every shade-sitter spoke of the canopy

With all this, ear and mind are intoxicated

From those few words that this tongue spoke

When the tongue found two or three scraps

It became busy and spoke of leaving the mine

And from the shame of the scraps, the soul of the lover

Spoke of leaving the market and this shop

Love said in my ear, enough

I will be silent when he said so