My heart and eyes open with You,
Impossible obstacles are overcome with You,
When Your name is mentioned, light sparkles;

Come to my spirit, don’t burn me with longing!
For the love of God, don’t leave your servant alone!

I am a palace guard, You are the Sultan,
You’re a mercy to those who’ve lost their way,
If I’m a body, You’re the life in it;

Come to my spirit, don’t burn me with longing!
For the love of God, don’t leave your servant alone!

Lovers seek You everywhere,
The sherbet of your lips is a remedy for every problem,
If I am troubled, where is my remedy?

Come to my spirit, don’t burn me with longing!
For the love of God, don’t leave your servant alone!

I’m a disgrace with many sins,
Stumbling, I have no strength left,
I don’t know what will become of me beyond.

Come to my spirit, don’t burn me with longing!
For the love of God, don’t leave your servant alone!

Once all seasons were spring,
I’m afraid those days have all darkened,
Have mercy! My road has become very steep.

Come to my spirit, don’t burn me with longing!
For the love of God, don’t leave your servant alone


God, show compassion to my wounded tongue!
Open your door and bless this sinner, God!

Let me rub my face on the threshold, don’t turn me away;
I’ve roamed wildly enough, God!

I stood for years and wailed at the door of bounty;
Separate me from my wails and sighs, God!

Although I’ve always lived soiled by rebellion,
Still be generous to this helpless one, God!

Don’t light the fire of otherness, let me burn in Your hearth,
Let me become pure love and become Your prey, God.

I have finally arrived at Your door with rebellion as great as the mountains,
I’ve returned, helpless, with a leash on my neck, God!

Bless Kitmîr and allow this wail of misery to cease;
Veil my every trial with a thousand ardors, God!


When it is dark, souls busy themselves with afterlife,
on the horizon nights appear to meet with Beloved.
Negative and positive poles join at the same point
from which rays of light pouring everywhere.

Eyes are illumined, hearts beat in unison;
what is unknown comes to be known by the heart.
Mysteries of the same tincture and design as stars
pertaining to the realms beyond are solved in souls.

Faces of light travel around ceaselessly in pursuit of Him.
For them the earth and heavens are each a place of exhibition;
the other world invites them, opening its doors.

Noah comes with the Flood, Moses with Speech;
the Sinai comes together with Makka in this dream.
Jesus descends with the Spirit, and the Essence
of Existence with the “essence” for Ka’ba to become identical with the Sidra.

Joyful days of life appear beyond last clouds of darkness,
time flows ceaselessly like a cataract toward the other life.
Forgetting whatever he has suffered of grief and sorrows,
man begins to feel his existence all differently.

Conscience moves as if it found at last its native land,
intoxicated with the breezes coming from the land of the Friend.
As if finding itself in the loveliest places of the other world,
it feels the fragrance of Paradise so heady and enrapturing.

The roads to re-union with the Beloved appear everywhere;
each color and sound and each design is a fine tune resounding.


A faded adventure experienced with weary eyes.
Sound of leaves,
beating in the ear with the force of strong, cold winds:
A music of fall…

The roses of poetical spring weep everywhere;
Colors are plaintive.
Nightingales in quiet lands lament:
Single melancholy notes.

Fountains are lost in thick mists of sorrow,
waters drip tenderly
Swans draw in their slender necks
in the search for spring

Plains groan in tears, hills weep in pangs of separation;
every sound is an elegy
Blue, green, pink and orange colors are in mourning;
each is groaning deeply

Like the last minutes of a life about to terminate,
every wail is a farewell..
When looked to carefully, the end of the world is visible;
what an alarming scene!

Spring and summer are each an enchanting memory,
lost in romantic fancies
Yet those fancies open to hopes stirring in the conscience;
diverse routes to the realms beyond

Eternity is sensed in each impression of transience,
until man catches sight of it.
Reason and logic are refined to seek out that other world,
reaching the realm of inspiration

Man feels the mysterious silence of death;
problems are resolved finally..
Everyone sees the end of the way he treads;
kneels down trembling.

Tongue-tied with dread of going into non-existence,
faith opens up a way to new horizons.
Sobbing that his inevitable end is at last at hand;
eternity sends out lights.

Thought falls into earth like a seed
to prepare itself for spring.
It hastens to where it reaches gardens of Eden
to meet with the Beloved.


One night I had a vision of the future so bright;
there was a peaceful silence and was pouring light upon light.

Things were being done with the precision of clockwork;
centuries-old confusions disappeared one after the other.

All were respectful to each other and behaved in sincerity;
water of life was flowing through taps of porphyry.

Holy ones were as if on parade with faces bright with faith;
as they walked, they gave strength to our hopes.

People were busy with founding a new world;
the earth was so luminous as if to compete with the sky.

When those heroes with penetrating sight passed by me,
I came to understand that mankind were in the time promised.

I saw young men with clear signs on their faces and concluded
they were those promised to come toward the end of time.

I continued my way without stopping, nor becoming tired;
I met those who had absorbed light from the “grand fountain.”

Some, full of gratitude, were walking arm-in-arm;
finally all reached their destination, which is the Pure Path


When realities are too dark to endure, dawn comes in dreams.
The spirit wanders through night to find a way out
toward that which it seeks and longs for.
It travels with the hope of recovering what it lost.
When realities are too dark to endure, dawn comes in dreams.

There is a cold war between realities and imaginings.
I travel from the reason to the heart until bereft
of power to distinguish the hopeful among hopeless causes.
When events begin to drive me to give up hope.
There is a cold war between realities and imaginings.

Dreams are always vivid, full of color.
Therein man looks deep into unfathomed oceans,
beholds the past, the far future and what is near to come,
what is old and about to be replaced or renewed.
Dreams are always vivid, full of color.

In darkness man suffers the extreme of loneliness.
When everything turns pale in the dead hours of night,
when mouths are tight-lipped as if zip-fastened,
he wishes to sprout wings and fly to the realms beyond.
In darkness man suffers the extreme of loneliness.


An eternal “textile” woven with silk threads,
pure as rain, cool as the shade of clouds;
its color and design address all the worlds,
unstained white like the river of milk in Paradise…

Not a transient hope, but peace everlasting,
from which begin all roads leading souls to heaven.
A source of strength for whoever affirms it,
a source of light for whoever takes refuge in it.

It unveils its wonders one after the other
to whoever enters its clime.
It draws the attention of all because of its message,
Never worn out, written in the moisture of Gabriel’s speech.

Its ever-green hills are pavilions
where the created meet with the Creator.
Satan is always defeated in its climate.
The greatest mystery between the Creator and existence.


For man this world is like a foreign land, a fearful ocean,
where he flounders a whole lifetime among waves of anxiety.
At every step and every station, he expects a dawn of hope to break:
Morning begins with pains, evening comes with the hopes of union.

Over and again, winds of mortality blow and are biting cold:
Lamentations as if from rejected orphans are heard everywhere.
By and by, arising from deep within his own conscience
come heavenly sounds laden with mystery and meaning.

A time comes when, like overflowing waves, he overflows
with longing to touch eternity and sails as far as the shore.
But he is stopped there, unable to move as if held in chains.
He brims over with zeal but remains in his narrow pool.


Tears are poetry whose words are written in drops,
expressing joy and grief, hope and despair.
When consumed with pangs of separation, melting like candle,
man breathes in tears and speaks in tears.

A time comes when man rejoices child-like with tears of joy,
as he sees dawn begin to break all over the world.
At another time he burns with inward sorrow, like a furnace,
when his horizons are clouded over with grief.

Tears are water of life putting out fires,
a membrane protective against the fire of Hell.
By tears ideals find their realization in the outer world;
by tears the arid world changes into Gardens.


As I mentioned you again, nothing else remained in my memory;
I imagined you traveling on the hills of my heart.
A mirage, I know, but it sufficed to calm the anguish of my heart.
As I mentioned you again, nothing else remains in my memory.

I wish I could move the whole of time with love of you,
and travel in your horizons, rising high like spirits;
I wish I, finding a way, could fly into your heart.
I wish I could move the whole of time with love of you.

I’ve come to understand that it’s too late to reach you,
I will lament continually for the pangs of separation;
lamenting, I will wait with ever-fresh hopes of union with you.
I’ve come to understand that it’s too late to reach you.