What love, what love, that is ours, O God

How exquisite and how good and how beautiful it is, O God

It is from that water of life that we are dancing in a circle

Not from the palm of the hand, nor from the reed, nor are there drums, O God

It is certain that that king is hidden in this celebration

For the means of scattering sugar are prepared, O God

In every brain and mind that his imagination falls

What a brain it is, and how exquisite, and how insightful, O God

If the body makes a moan from the grief of profit and loss

That breathing is from You, not from the oboe, O God

Your palm has made the reed's body all holes

So that night and day there is wailing and clamor in it, O God

What does the poor reed know what the way of the veil is?

It is the breath of the reed player that is seeing and knowing, O God

That in the garden and the rose garden, from the glory and pomp of the drunkards

What light it is, and what passion, and what madness it is, O God

From the pleasant desert of Moses and from the table of Jesus

What ambrosia it is, and what strength, and what sweetmeat it is, O God

From this ambrosia and this strength, how drunk and how astonished we are

That it is not from the produce of the earth, it is from above, O God

From the reflection of the face of that friend in this rose garden and flower garden

In every direction there is moon and sun and Pleiades, O God

Like a flood and like a stream, we all run towards You

For the destination of every flood is the sea, O God

I have sworn many times that I will be silent, but

Perhaps every pearl of Your sea is eloquent, O God

Be silent, O heart, for you are drunk, lest it befall the world

Keep it safe from the calamity that is in place, O God

From Shams al-Haqq of Tabriz, heart and soul and two eyes

Are distraught and distraught with love, O God