Oh Khusrau, the river of love runs in strange directions.
One who jumps into it drowns, and one who drowns, gets across.
The creaking of the chain of Majnun is the orchestra of the lovers,
To appreciate its music is quite beyond the ears of the wise.
If I cannot see her, at least I can think of her, and so be happy;
To light the beggar's hut no candle is better than moonlight.