My beloved does not leave me so that I may raise my head; my beloved's figure embraces me tightly.
Sometimes like a caravan of camels, he pulls me along; sometimes he puts me forward like a king with his commander.
Sometimes he uses me like a seal to place his mark on me; sometimes he makes me a ring and steals me for his door.
He takes blood and makes it seed, takes seed and creates people; he takes people and makes intellect, revealing his own resurrection.
Sometimes he drives me away like a pigeon from home; sometimes he calls me with a hundred pleas to his presence.
Sometimes he takes me like a ship on a sea voyage; sometimes he makes me an anchor and ties me to his anchor.
Sometimes he makes me water in pursuit of purity; sometimes he makes me a thorn on the path of his misfortune.
The eternal eight paradises are not the view of that king; how delightful is my heart that he makes it his view.
I did not become a believer in that soul's witness through martyrdom; I became a believer when I became an infidel to myself.
Whoever entered his ranks found safety from his destruction; I saw the sword in his hand and burned my own shield.
I was a companion of Gabriel, with six hundred wings; when I reached him, what should I do with my wings?
I was the guardian of that soul's jewel day and night; in the depths of the sea of jewels, I am free from my own jewel.
How many attributes do you give him when he cannot be contained by attributes? Stop so that I may go to my own tumult and turmoil.