THE DESIRE OF UNION
Within the curve and the twist of the beloved's tress song is,
The heart the devotee slave of each tooth of the comb is.
The soul is willing to see your moon-like face,
Sitting in the mosque and in the sanctuary a pretext is.
Lying in ambush for the mystics and for those turned away from the existence,
Your tress like a noose and your lip's mole like a grain is.
Thinking of your union, shining sun,
My tear towards the sea like the flood running is.
The period of youth was over being spent in the Beloved's abode,
For all this is cruelty, what the remedy is?
The waves of the beloved's beuaty like the boundless sea is,
This intoxicated, having parched lips, on the coast his care is.
The tavern desiring for his union rejoicingly,
The minstrel, dancing, rejoicing and playing the harp and the spatula is.