The Reed Flute’s Song

Listen to this reed as it complains, telling the tale of separations.  
Since they cut me from the reed bed, men and women have lamented in my cries.  
I need a heart torn apart by separation to express the pain of longing.  
Anyone who is separated from their origin seeks the time of reunion.  
I have wailed in every gathering, becoming a companion to both the sad and the joyful.  
Everyone became my friend according to their own perception, but none sought the secrets within me.  
My secret is not far from my lament, but the eye and ear lack that light.  
The body is not hidden from the soul, nor the soul from the body, but no one has permission to see the soul.  
This sound of the reed is fire, not wind; whoever lacks this fire, let them be not.  
It is the fire of love that fell into the reed, the bubbling of love that fell into the wine.  
The reed is a companion to anyone who has parted from a friend, tearing its curtains as it tears ours.  
Who has seen poison and antidote like the reed? Who has seen a companion and a seeker like the reed?  
The reed tells the tale of the blood-stained path, recounting the stories of Majnun's love.  
No one is privy to this wisdom except the senseless; the tongue has no customer but the ear.  
In our sorrow, days became untimely, days accompanied by burning.  
If the days have gone, say go, it does not matter; remain, you who are as pure as none other.  
Anyone but a fish is sated by its water; anyone without sustenance finds their day delayed.  
No raw one understands the state of the cooked, so words should be brief, and peace.