Hymns are like the hands of a priest,
The life carried songs for the dance.
Don’t look at beauty delivered
For the guise of its form is eternal
And the proof of the beauty is not ugly.
Look at adoration of the soul
As the prosperity of an eternal residence.
Heaven causes its rivers to flow in the quest
To fasten their pleasures on the reposed.
This much music is definitely played
By the dances and magicians.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem