I don’t know why, but just to catch a glance—I dance!
Proud of this love, and for the Friend—I dance!
You touch the strings of the instrument, and each time—I dance!
However You make me move, I accept it, O Friend—and thus I dance!

Come, O Beloved, and witness this solemn sight:
In an impudent crowd, amidst shame and spite,
With a hundred chances to lose honour in the bazaar—I dance!

Blessed is this state of holy intoxication—
I trample a hundred pious laws without hesitation!
How wondrous and strange is the state of restraint—
Clad in a turban and cloak—I dance like a saint!I am Usman Haruni, companion of Shaykh Mansur—
Though they mock me, though they scorn me, though I’m hung on the cross—I endure,
And still—I dance!