Behold that form, behold that manner, behold that stature and face and hands and feet

Behold that color, behold that melody, behold that full moon within the robe

Shall I speak of the cypress or the meadow, shall I speak of the tulip or the jasmine?

Shall I speak of the candle or the basin, or the dance of the flower before the morning breeze?

O love, like a fire temple, you have come in form and appearance

You have struck the caravan of the heart, grant a moment of respite, O Opener

In fire and in my burning, I carry the night until my day

O my blessed victor, by the face of that sun of the forenoon

I circle around his moon, I offer him greetings without lips

I throw myself on the ground before he says 'صلا'

You are the rose garden and orchard of the world, the eye and lamp of the world

You are also the pain and scar of the world when you set foot in cruelty

I come to make my soul a pledge, you say, 'Do not trouble yourself for it'

I serve so that I may be freed, you say, 'O fool, come'

Imagination has become the companion of the fiery lovers

May your image not be absent for a moment from before our eyes

O heart, what has become of your stability, and what has become of your affairs?

Who makes you sleep like this in the morning and in the evening?

The heart said, 'The beauty of his face, and that magical narcissus of his eye'

And that hyacinth of his eyebrow, and that sweet ruby of our story

O love, before everyone, you have many names and titles

I last night called you another name: 'incurable pain'

O the splendor of my soul is from you, like the turning sky I turn from you

Send wheat, O soul, so that the millstone may not turn in vain

I will no longer breathe, say only this verse and enough

My soul has melted from this desire, be kind to us, O our Lord