The indigence is an honour if free from the world is,
The one who forgets oneself, what sorrows can have?
The destiny on that day appears that the night of which,
The beloved up to the morning as companion with one is.
The joy of the dervish the sufi is not able to comprehend,
Take wine from the hand of the idol that a confidant is.
The parrot of the garden of affection does not go to the owl's nest,
The hawk of the paradise, how the marked-dog can be.
Either take this lost heart under your shelter,
Or release it to wander round the world.