Last eve, our spiritual Pir did voyage from sacred mosque to worldly tavern. Brethren, what course now shall we chart? What action shall we take?

We, the acolytes, find our Pir straying to the tavern; how then shall we turn our gaze towards the sacred direction in prayer?

Let us then claim sanctuary amidst the cloister’s ruins, declare it our haven; such has been our fate from the beginning!

If intellect could grasp the ecstasy of a soul entwined in your locks, every mind would yearn for bondage in our fetters, to be touched by frenzy.

Thy visage, a font of loveliness, did unveil unto us a scripture of charm. Hence, in our reading, each syllable sings of beauty, of elegance.

Might the impassioned sighs we uttered through the dark, the insatiable blaze within us, stir thine own for but a single eve?

Hafiz, hold thy peace. The arrow of our sighs could rend the very skies. Guard thy essence! Heed the flight of our arrows!

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