Here, in the presence of roses we showered,
Shared the tree of age,
Had the yearning of water,
And the longings of deserts
Every spring was telling a story,
Evading that hidden lively something in the heart
Oh, the confession of the confused
The speech of the wide eyes
The carnations of time do not profess
Whichever sword you have in the sheath, just come
I have nothing but God’s water
To irrigate the wakeful birds and deer
A branch from the vineyards of love leaned in fascination
And dropped a fruit dripping with wine
That the jugs of the drunk had never tasted
So, come here, morning star
Come to create a purified melody,
And from all the night stars, we disappear in love.