Although in lamenting and wailing, there is a little self-awareness, that is not for me, as in your love, I am accustomed to stealing from myself. By God and the purity of His essence, I am pure from self-admiration. How can the eye turn away from your face when it comes time to turn? In such fortune and such a field, it is a disgrace to fear death. Your lovers have become certain, laughing at all deaths. The branches of the tree tremble, but the root has no fear of trembling. The gardeners of love pick fruit from their own hearts. The soul of the lover wraps morsels, in recompense for enduring hardship. Practice piety and knowledge, O master, for love cannot be practiced. Shams of Tabriz said this before, but where is the ear to listen?