Because the idol is your face, I have become an idolater.
Because the wine is from your cup, I have become a drunkard.
In the existence of your love, I have become non-existent.
This non-existence, linked to you, is better than all existence.
Is it your face that adorns this garden?
Is it your fragrance that intoxicates this garden?
Is it your Spirit that has made this brook a river of wine?
Hundreds have looked for you, and died searching in this garden,
where you hide behind the scenes.
But this pain is not for those who come as lovers.
You are easy to find here.
You are in the breeze and in this river of wine.