Ah, what was there in that light-giving candle that it set fire to the heart, and snatched the heart away?
You who have set fire to my heart, I am consumed, O friend; come quickly, quickly!
The form of the heart is not a created form, for the beauty of God manifested itself from the cheek of the heart.
I have no succour save in his sugar, I have no profit save in his lip.
Remember him who one dawn released this heart of mine from the chain of your tress.
My soul, the first time I saw you my soul heard something from your soul.
When my heart drank water from your fountain it drowned in you, and the torrent snatched me away.
English version by A. J. Arberry
Original Language Persian/Farsi & Turkish