Love came to its own home, that lover-pleasing love, imagining a form that melts forms.
You came to your own home, entered happily and joyfully; enter through the heart's door and rush to the soul's presence.
Every particle of my being is in love with your sun, for particles have a long journey with the sun.
See the particles by the window, joyfully suspended; whoever has the sun as their qibla, such is their prayer.
In the sun's dance, these particles are like Sufis; no one knows by what tune, what beat, or what instrument.
Within every heart, there is a different melody and beat; openly dancing, while the musicians are hidden like a secret.
Above all, our inner dance is superior; our parts dance within it with a hundred kinds of grace and charm.
Shams of Tabriz, you are the king of the kings of souls; no Mahmoud has come like you, nor another Ayaz like me.