Do you know what the lute says? It speaks of tears and burning hearts.
I am skin left behind from the flesh; how can I not lament in separation and torment?
The wood also says, "I was a green branch; my saddle broke and the stirrup tore."
We are strangers to separation, O kings; hear from us, "To God is the return."
We first sprouted from the truth in the world, and to Him, we return from upheaval.
Our cry is like a bell in the caravan or like thunder during the clouds' journey.
O traveler, do not set your heart on a dwelling, for you will be weary at the time of attraction.
For you have traveled through many abodes, from a drop to the time of youth.
Take it easy so you may escape easily; give easily and also find reward.
Hold it tightly, for it held you tightly; find its beginning and end in it.
The bow plays beautifully, for its arrow causes turmoil in the lovers' hearts.
If a Turk, Roman, or Arab is in love, this true sound is their language.
The wind wails, calling you to come into the water to seek the stream.
I was water, became wind, and came to save the thirsty from this mirage.
The speech of that wind was once water; it becomes water when it removes the veil.
This sound arose from beyond the six directions, urging you to flee from direction and not turn away from us.
Lover, you are not less than a moth; when does a moth avoid the fire?
The king is in the city for the sake of the owl; how can I leave the city and take the ruin?
If a donkey goes mad, take the bull's member and strike its head until it yields the essence.
If I seek its heart, its stinginess increases; God said to the infidels, "Strike the necks."