What a garden, what a garden, that bloomed from above

What a value, what a full moon, blessed and exalted be He

What glory, what light, what evil, what passion

What scattered gems, what support and patronage

What kingdom, what wealth, what speech, what state

What feather, what wing, manifest above the heavens

When the soul tears apart the chains with fervor

Whether it be Dha al-Nun, or Majnun, or Layli, or Layla

The banners of God arose from behind the mountain

Whether it be sultan, or khaqan, or governor, or exalted one

What has come before the soul that has left the world behind?

Strike the neck of the one who says there is consolation

Since the Compeller, without intermediary, nurtured the world

Whether it be a bell, or honor, or welcome, or ease

Whether you are a part of the earth or a trustworthy spirit

When you see that state, say "Glorious be His Majesty"

If the heavens are not, by God, there is no fear

Let the heart not be sorrowful, do not make noise and clamor

Conceal, conceal, do not roar, do not sell

You are the intoxicating wine, refine it for a moment

You are cotton and bleacher, you are grape and presser

Refine and press, but do not defile your hand

Be silent, be silent in this gathering of rabble

Do not speak openly, do not speak openly of the Master and the Lord