O, Zehra, draw that ear of Zahra!

You have placed a request in this attraction of our hearts.

I am the one who has not attained your desire, for your hunting and your snare.

Sometimes I am at the corner of your roof, and sometimes I have taken the desert.

What does the helpless snare know of deceiving the wandering bird?

What does the Egyptian Joseph know of the result of tumult and uproar?

Seize the collar and drag here whomever you wish.

For I am the snare, and you are the hunter. What hidden craft is this, O friend?

I am ruined like the city of Lot; I am bewildered like the eye of Lot.

I seek a reason to inquire about, but I do not have the courage and strength.

If Attar was a lover, and Sanai was a king and superior,

I am neither this nor that; for I have lost head and foot.

I have one sigh from which this sigh will burn my plain and my tent.

I have one ear that I have dedicated to the king, the sugar-seeker.

Be silent! In silence, the soul draws it like amber.

For its soul is prepared for the upward struggles.