We search for what desire of ours in the realm of the
heavens?
Our heart does not allow us to wish for anything anymore.
Let the pomp and splendor disappear in an instant,
We would be happy to stand before the mirror then.
Do not cast your holy eyes on the wrinkles of my shirt,
If you tear my clothes, the angels will need to purify
themselves.
We are like candle's flame from head to toe,
We have no freedom to speak anything at all.
Although I am a mirror, I am still not accepted,
They turn their faces away from me and I am shunned.
The flower has its beauty, but we have no credibility,
What can we do to make the garden's desire for fragrance and
color grow?
This is my suggestion: all the hermits in the city
O Darvish, come and take the pledge of the wine cup.
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