Someone said, "Master Sana'i has died." Such a death for a master is no small matter.
He was not straw to be blown away by the wind, nor water to freeze in the cold.
He was not a comb to break with a hair, nor a seed to be crushed by the earth.
He was a treasure of gold in this earthly realm, who counted the two worlds as nothing.
The earthly body was cast to the earth, while the wise soul ascended to the heavens.
The second soul, unknown to people, we say in error, was entrusted to the Beloved.
The pure mixed with the bitter wine, went to the top of the jar, and separated from the pain.
In the journey, dear one, the Turk, the Persian, the Roman, and the Kurd come together.
Each returns to their own home; how can an atlas compare to a simple cloth?
Be silent like a dot, for the king has erased your name from the book of speech.