No one catches my eye to say, "They are like him,"
For in the eyes of lovers, none compares to the beloved’s whim.
Whoever sits with the intoxicated forsakes modesty,
The honor of the noble in the tavern flows like a stream to the sea.
Only those who grasp true meaning are not misled by the dance,
One must have insight to shed the superficial stance.
I am your servant—crown me or strike me down with an axe,
Whatever comes from the beloved is a joy, not a tax.
Reason once ruled the realm of existence with a kingly air,
But like Farhad, it now craves the sweetness of her lips with despair.
If you trace every strand of her musky hair,
Beneath each one, you’ll find a heart spinning like a ball in the air.
Saadi, describe your beloved’s beauty as much as you can,
But her charm surpasses words, just as the rose’s glory silences the chatter of the nightingale’s span.