I am in love and for the lover except your union no remedy there is,

No one can be found not to be consumed by this fire.

In the hearts-burnt assembly except mentioning you nothing is,

This is the narration without beginning and ending

The heart’s confidence cannot be opened to anyone,

Except to the beloved who is lack of hidden and presence.

To whom shall I explain that except the beloved won’t see,

The one who is unable to control thought and meeting.

Pay a bit of attention and glance at me, the poor creature,

Act coyly, do coyness as in this desert no arrangement there is.

Open the top of the jar and give me a brimful cup,

Except you neither cup nor facining any one is concernrd.

It is impossible to help talking in a muddled way,

The one who has nothing in his chest but a muddled heart.

Tear up the notebook, break the pen, and keep silent,

You can find no one who is not mad about Him.

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