The one who inflames the fire which consumes my soul, the beloved is,

The one who increases my pain, infact the beloved herself is.

Whatever animating is, the cup of wine from the beloved's hand is.

Nor tutor, or trainer, neither physician and nor the preacher is.

My love secret, my pain's mystery within the Beloved's curve of the tresses is.

When in the circle of Sufi and the disciples of the cross is.

There was no victory out of my victories, nor any lights out of the lamp,

Whatever I want within the garment of that bewitching is.

These upright people of the love school are looking for the pain,

The one who is looking for the cure from the followers of this school unaware is.

I want a single sip of your cup in order to become unconscience,

The sober from the pleasure of this sip deprived is.

The wave of the friend's favour within the unlimited love sea,

Sometimes stays upon the highest point and sometimes at the deep-end is.

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