Alas, that chief of the assembly does not grant me access

He does not make (me) the confidant of (his) soul, the confidant of my secrets

His beauty and goodness and (fiery) glance like a consuming fire

His question, like his sugar (sweetness), has captivated me

He said to me, "Where is your affection, where is your hue, where is your glory?"

Where does hue and scent remain at the hour of my meeting (with him)?

I am drowned in the stream of his generosity, a slave of that dawn

For that sweet-smelling flower draws me towards the rose garden

Whoever is by the stream, his garment is a burden upon him

How much loss and heavy is my patched coat and turban

Kingdom and possessions that are from these sweet-faced moon-like ones

Exist in meaning as long as a faithful friend is mine

Position and profession are yours, knowledge and thought are yours

The lion is yours, the thicket is yours, and the Tartar deer is mine

He makes the non-existent existent, he makes (one) without heart and without hands

He gives wine, makes (one) intoxicated, (he is) the cupbearer of my hangover

O rogue heart, do not create sedition and quarrel

Do not make me famous, do not reveal (my secrets) in the marketplace

If he breaks my advice, he will make my bond strong

(He does this) out of the desire to make a friend and a purchaser of me

Do not speak more of duality, do not say "two, two" like a dualist

Seek the origin of the cause, enough (has come) from its effects upon me