If you come to visit my grave

If you come to visit my grave,

My tomb will appear to dance.

Brother! Don’t come without a tambourine,

for the sad can’t join in God’s celebration.

From every direction comes the sound of the harp,

and hue and cry from the drunk.

Every action will perforce give rise to another one.

God has created me from love’s wine;

even if death takes me, I am the same love.

I am intoxication; my origin is the wine of love.

Tell me: what comes from wine except intoxication?

Toward the lofty soul of Beloved

my soul is flying, lingering not even a single moment.