1. Why does passion not feed us with its incense?
I am in my youth and you are in its prime.

2. Rise, and serve me the wine of passion and its first draught,
And drink from my cup the nectar of its vines.

3. O son of nightingales, who repeated their melodies,
And brother of the swaying branches, finding tenderness in its bending.

4. Sing, you will find listening and feelings,
I listened and a heart resonating from its throbbing.

5. And sing, O son of warblers, from vitality,
And those descending upon the slopes of its valleys.

6. This passion and those who lived in its meadows,
Should we not sing amidst the flowers of its branches?

7. Take from your lips all that I take,
You will find the first draught shaking the rose from its bending.

8. Imagine for a moment, and hover around,
Come near and go far, and wander in its circling.

9. It saw you transcending time and overflowing,
And saw you filling the universe in its mind.

10. My passion settled with a shining kiss,
A lightning that shook the world with its clarity.

11. And you may know who I am, who I am in the world,
I who received words from its clouds.

12. If you wish, clothing feelings in jewels,
And the brocade shedding its patterns upon you.

13. Rise, place your right hand in its blessed passion,
And wipe with it whatever you wish from its body.