O you, by whose generosity our work is right

Wherever there is greenness, it is for us

What sorrow does the lover have in the world?

As long as the cup of the wine of union is upright

Every wind has taken a chaghana (a musical instrument)

Which is waiting for our signal

Every water has become like a curtain holder

Behind the curtain are wondrous idols

Every intoxicated nightingale on a sapling

Is like a soul-increasing comfort

Do not say much, for it is time for soup

Since the hunger of the people is sixfold