O soul and clear-sighted eyes, how are you? Envy of the moon and the turquoise dome, how are you?
We and hundreds like us are ruined and intoxicated for you. We are weary without you; how are you without us?
Where you are not is like a scorpion's hole, and where there is none but you, how are you there?
O soul, what do you do in the selection of souls? O jewel enriched from the sea, how are you?
O bird of the heavens caught in the trap of water and clay, how are you in blood, phlegm, and bile?
You have fallen from that delicate garden into the stinking pit; how are you in harmony with the pit's inhabitants?
O mountain of patience and tranquility, how patient are you? O secluded one like the phoenix, how are you?
The world stands by you, and in what world are you? Bodies live by you; how are you alone?
O sun, ashamed of you, in what east are you? Pure poison with you is like sweet halva, how are you?
We have been turned upside down without top or bottom. O instigator of turmoil and uproar, how are you?
If you are absent from the heart, what are you doing in this heart? And if you are in the heart, how are you with the soot of melancholy?
O King Shams, pride of unparalleled Tabriz, how are you in the arc of proximity and the nearest?