A melody has come again from the flute of fortune, so clap your hands, O soul, and stomp your feet, O heart.
The mine has become radiant, the world has become cheerful, a feast is prepared, and an invitation is arriving.
In the scent of spring, on the face of the green field, in love with a delightful beauty, we are intoxicated and exclaiming.
He is the sea, and we are the clouds; he is the treasure, and we are the ruins. In the sunlight, we are like particles.
I am distraught, forgive me, let me be in my plight; I will pierce the moon with the light of Mustafa.