The word of Love is nothing but allusion.
Love is not bound by poetic metaphors.

The heart recognises the jewel of Love.
Reason has no inkling of this insight.

Love doesn't reside in interpretation.
Love isn't of the world of explanations.

Whoever has had a heart ruined by Love
afterwards will never know reconstruction.

Take a loan of Love and sell yourself
for there is no trade fairer that this.

If one moment passes by without Love
that moment will never find redemption.

Retrieve your heart from the grave of your desire.
Your heart won't receive any other visits.

Wash your body with the blood of your eyes.
Your body shall have no other cleansing.

Both worlds are filled with the Friend, and yet
there's no indication of Her Venus.

As She plundered the hearts of Her devotees
a cry arose: This isn't the place for pillage!

Give up your body for this task O Attār
because our vocation bears no malice.