For a moment lay your cheek on the cheek of this drunkard, for a moment put behind your war and cruelty.
If it be hard, I bring out silver in my hand; put in this hand wine like gold.
You who have opened the doors of the seven heavens, lay the hand of generosity on my fettered heart.
All I have to offer is not-being; give the nickname of being to my not-being.
You are both breaker and binder of the broken; lay the balm of the soul on my broken head.
Do not put a seal on that sugar and pistachio nut; lay everlasting love upon this servant.
I have told you fifty times, O heart: do not hunt, put your foot in this net.
