My Lord has effaced the gulf between His world and mine,
With the wondrous potion, "There is no God but. God."
Thy mendicant, inebriate, has in great abandon,
Shattered his sustaining cup at the spring of life
My little draught has value ill this barren age,
For sufies, ill their sanctums, have nothing but empty casks.
Do veil Thyself, O Lord, before a novice like me,
My eyes are more unruly than my anxious heart.
A pearl keeps its lustre in the heart’s purity,
Though tossed and tumbled much by the ravages of the sea.
The enchanting eye of a melodious bard doth cast a magic spell;
It gives the flowers more beauty, it brings more bloom to the earth.