I said, perhaps in a dream, I may see the beloved’s face,
But lo, at dawn, my eyes behold the beloved’s grace.
The people have not seen the crescent moon of Eid appear,
For us, it is Eid—the beloved’s brow, crescent-clear.
No more does the tall cypress tree draw my gaze,
For the beloved’s upright figure commands all praise.
I am so lost, for a true lover cannot remain aware,
Of their own self, immersed in the beloved’s affair.
O sleep, linger no more upon Saadi’s eyes,
For these eyes are meant for dreams or the beloved’s guise.