There is one who teaches the moon
and the evening star their beauty.
Muslims, I am so mingled with that
that no one can mingle with me.
I was born of this love, so now I hang from this branch.
Shadows are always changing, fleeing. I feel that fear.
There is no peace except in full sun.
A voice says, Quick, the rope trick, and, Where did the moth go?
When you hear that, coil the rope and begin to climb.
Fly straight into the candle, this burning so dear
no coolness can tempt us out of this flame.