TEARING CLOTHES

TEARING CLOTHES

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 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.

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