O reed, how delightful it is that you are aware of secrets, your work is done by someone who knows the work.
O reed, like the nightingale lamenting that rose, do not bend your neck, for you are aware of the thornless rose.
I told the reed not to steal the secret of companionship, it said your destruction lies in being aware all at once.
I said my salvation is within my destruction, set the fire, burn, do not leave awareness.
It said how can I become the bandit of this caravan, knowing that the caravan leader is aware.
I said when the beloved did not console the lost ones, even awareness became weary of awareness.
You have not become an eye that is unaware of itself, for us, the veil of sight and vision is awareness.
From that companion's lips, they have beheaded you, O shame of the head on this path and O disgrace of awareness.
You became empty of yourself and filled with secrets, because you are aware of self-worship and denial.
When you taste the ruby lips of the beloved, what is the lament? Let the lament of awareness be a complaint.
No, no, you do not lament for yourself, O noble one, weep for the one who is aware of strangers.
If the heavens lament, it is the ox under the burden, from this reversed horseshoe, the error is awareness.