A cry went up from my tavern, the heavens were split by my litany:
Finally victory has arrived, the Beloved has entered to tend me.
Lord, lord, how He is acting, my unequaled Beloved, to recompense me!
That philosophers’ stone makes obedience and faith from my neglect and unbelief and sins.
After my shortcomings He bestows a palace, after my slips He bestows victuals.
He causes the heart of sea and mountain to surge from the heat of the day of my encounter.
If the thoughts of man were not a veil, they would be burnt to ashes by my thoughts.
My drum and flag, my cry and shouting would strike agitation in the army of the spirit;
The fire of my tryst at midnight would strike flames into the horizon of the sky.
