Constant Conversation

I have sat at your door, hoping for loyalty to arise, perhaps you will open a door and say, "Come in."
My soul is immersed at your door, in the scent of your musk and amber. A hundred thousand blessings always upon your beautiful face.
We are intoxicated and carefree, indifferent to others' affairs. Even if the world falls apart, may your love endure.
Your love claps its hands, creating a hundred other worlds. A hundred new centuries emerge beyond the heavens and void.
O love, smiling like a flower, and as insightful as universal wisdom, draw the sun into your cloak, O noble knight of the divine.
Today we are your guests, intoxicated by your smiling face. When I mention your name, my heart truly leaps.
Where is any roof but yours, where is any name but yours, where is any cup but yours, O sweet-acting cupbearer?
If I could find a living soul, I would cling to its hem. I wish I were in a dream, where you would appear.
O you with your entourage at your door, step out, O noble one, for I am intoxicated and delighted by those captivating eyes.
See the lament and tears, see a hundred torn garments, see the blood of the heart wrapped around the neck, face, and nape.
Whoever sees your face and does not become a wanderer must be a stone or a clod. Why would I wish harm upon them?
There is no greater suffering than being unaware of you, O king and ruler of mankind, do not let the soul be blind.
Souls flow like a flood to the shore of the sea of souls, cut off from acquaintances, becoming familiar with the ocean.
A wave flows in ecstasy, another wave has lost its way. One praises God, while the other sighs and says, "There is no power."
O sun that has come to the poor, becoming a cupbearer, showing yourself to your servants, sometimes with generosity, sometimes with gifts.
The flower suddenly saw you, tearing its soul and garment, and that harp, out of shame, bowed its head before you.
Who is the most fortunate and virtuous in the tower of Venus? It is the reed that places its lips on yours to learn melody.
Reeds, especially sugarcane, have girded themselves with hope, dancing in the reed bed, meaning "You honor whom you will."
Without you, the harp and reed were sad, one took the embrace, the other the kiss. The tambourine said, "Play on my face so that I may gain value."
This torn soul, make it joyfully intoxicated, so that what was missed yesterday may be fulfilled now.
It is a pity, O great king, to awaken in such a state. By God, I will not speak of sobriety again, O God.
Either give wine without seeking proof, or rise and go yourself, or let the servant's mystical tale unfold with your grace.