O soul, O friend, do not leave us like this,

O flowing cypress, show that tall stature.

Make this earthly bed cheerful and bright,

Show another sun to this green dome (sky).

Guide the souls, fill the mines with gold,

Bring the sea to a boil and a roar with an earthquake.

The sun seeks refuge in the shadow of your fortune,

Indeed, what can be done with that shadow of the Simurgh (a mythical bird)?

The mind that thinks evil, that deficiency is enough, O soul,

(Leave aside) the rotten, decayed passion.

(You are) both divine mercy and a salve and a cure,

Give, in a physician's manner, that which repels bile.

You are the nightingale of the rose garden, you are the cupbearer of the righteous,

You are the revealer of secrets, even for the headless and footless.

O Lord, what is it that you have, that from your spring-like grace,

You bring into action both stone and hard rock?

(You are) a kindled light, a stirred-up passion,

A hundred storms cannot extinguish that sedition and tumult.