I want the sorrow that the sympathizer of which to be you,
I want a heart whose heart-ravisher to be you.
The worlds is worthless,
If my beloved, if the beloved of mine is you.
I will kiss my gallows tree happily,
If you are on the foot of the gallows.
I’ll give my head and my soul to the illness,
If you are my nurse.
Oh Friend! I will become the standard-bearer of the world,
At the day when you are my serdar.
My life reaches the curved bow,
As the sun for my dark night will be you.
I stand the burden of safekeeping sorrowfuly,
The confidant of my mysteries will be you.