It feels empty and cold without fire,
Who is fueled by the looks and desire.

Each hanging tree and every golden-leave,
Are the views who make my soul inspire.

My Tribe of Relish has no renegades,
Once blessed and cursed: no one can retire.

The Pearl of Wisdom lies in my sad hand,
Yet that's the gem I seek to acquire.

That which is silent like a sleeper, yet
Loud like dreams, Ruyâ'î does admire.