Let this window be your ear.
You give attention to the smallest matters,
You know my coins are counterfeit,
I have five things to say,
First, when I was apart from you,
this world did not exist, nor any other.
Second, whatever I was looking for was always you.
Third, why did I ever learn to count to three?
Fourth, my cornfield is burning!
Fifth, this finger stands for Rabia,
and this is for someone else.
Is there a difference?
Are these words or tears?
So he speaks, and everyone around
This is the true religion.
This is the sema of slavery and mastery dancing together.
Neither words, nor any natural fact can express this.
I know these dancers.
My soul, don't try to answer now!
But what can stay hidden?