I desire a cup of wine from the Beloved's hand,
To whom do I reveal this secret, where to I carry this sadness?
I lost my life to the disunion of the Beloved,
I am the moth round the candle and the wild rue on fire.
Like a moth within this cage I nearly passed away,
Release me so that joyfully I go.
This dirty patched garment and the hypocricy prayer rug,
At the tavern's door I rend, Can it be?
If from the jug of love a sip is given by the Beloved,
Drunkenly I pull soul out of existence's cloak.
Though I am old, with a glance I will become young,
Do me a favour, so that from the world's hut I go out.