She sat down with fear in her eyes,
Contemplating my upturned cup.
She said: don’t grieve, my son,
You are destined to fall in love;
My son, the one who sacrifices himself for his beloved
Is a martyr.

Your cup is horrific world,
And your life books and wars.
You will fall in love so many times, so many times,
And you will die so many times, so many times.
You will fall in love with all the women in this world,
And you will return back as a defeated king.

For so long I have scrutinized fortune-telling,
But never have I read a cup similar to yours.
For so long I have scrutinized fortune-telling
But never have I seen sorrows similar to yours.
You are predestined to sail forever
Sail-less, on the sea of love.
Your life is forever destined
To be a book of tears,
And be imprisoned
Between water and fire.


Regardless of its fires
Regardless of its past records
Regardless of the grief that abides within us day and night
Regardless of the wind,
The rainy weather,
And the cyclone,
It is love, my son,
Will always be the best of all fates


There is a woman in your life, my son,
Her eyes are so beautiful,
Glory be to God,
Her mouth is drawn like a petal,
And her laughs
Roses and melodies,
And the mad gypsy’s hair
Traveling all around the world.

The woman you love,
May be she is your whole world.
But your sky is raining,
And your rout is blocked, blocked, my son.
Your beloved, my son, is asleep
In a guarded palace.
The palace is big and huge,
Guarded by dogs and soldiers,
And the princess of your heart is asleep.
He who asks for her hand
Or approaches her garden’s wall
Will get lost....
He who tries to loosen her tresses
Will get lost, my son, will get lost.

You will seek her everywhere, my son,
Asking the waves of the sea about her,
Asking the shores’ turquoise.
You will roam seas and seas,
And your tears will flow like a river,
And you grief will grow till it becomes trees.
At the close of your life,
You will realize that
You have been pursuing only a trace of smoke.
You will find that since your beloved,
Has no land, no home, and no address.
How difficult it is, my son,
To love a woman
Who has neither land, nor home.