Understand the lover's path as the opposite of common ways, for lies from the beloved are better than truth and kindness.
His impossible state is his reward and burden, justice is all his oppression, and slander is his justice.
His harshness is gentle, his synagogue is the Kaaba, the thorn that pricks the beloved is sweeter than flowers and basil.
The moment he is sour is better than a house of sugar, and the heart that becomes weary is sweet with kisses and embraces.
When he tells you, "By God, I am fed up with you," that is the water of Khidr from the fountain of life.
When he says no, in the sting are a thousand yeses; his estrangement is intimacy in the way of the estranged.
His disbelief became all faith, his stones all coral, his stinginess all generosity, his crime all forgiveness.
If you criticize, saying you have a crooked path, I bought the path of his eyebrow and gave my life.
I am intoxicated by this crooked path, I have done enough and closed my lips; lift up your enlightened heart and read the rest.
Shams of Tabriz, O Lord, what sweetness you pour, as if from my mouth come a hundred proofs and a hundred arguments.