O our Joseph of good name, you walk happily on our roof

O our broken cup, O our torn net

O our light, O our feast, O our victorious fortune

Put a boil in our passion until our grapes become wine

O our beloved and desired one, O our qibla and worshipped one

You set fire to our oud, behold our smoke

O our friend, our touchstone, the snare of our intoxicated heart

Do not withdraw your foot from our work, take our turban as a pledge

The foot of the heart has remained in the mud, I give my life, what place is the heart?

And from the fire of the passion of the heart, alas for the heart, alas for us