THE light OF GRACE
The meadow smells of the Beloved, as if the Beloved is there,
In the garden a pleasant celebration to her memory there is.
Anywhere you go any group you behold,
There is huge passionate due to his recalling by various ways.
The lovely sypress, that animating soul of mine,
Be under her grace, which gives tranquility
Unlock these locks, fly out of this cage,
Set off towards destination where, from the Beloved a song there is.
Tear out these webs, cure these pains,
Wander around make wander of whatever animating there is.
Remove these figures, leave these illusions,
Take the cup from the cup-bearer inwhich “LA” there is.