O blessed messenger, bearing tidings of the beloved,
Speak to me only words that echo the heart of the beloved.
How sweet it is to hear of the beloved directly from their lips,
Or from the lips of one who has heard from the beloved’s own.
O familiar companion, where is the flag of the caravan?
So we may bow our heads at the feet of the beloved’s guide.
If all the world should offer gold in devotion to the beloved,
We offer our heads for the feet of the messenger of the beloved.
Alas, and sorrowfully, I have lost control of the reins,
My hands cannot reach to grasp the reins of the beloved.
Stricken by the love of the beloved, my state is such that
Even the unkind heart of the beloved may show me mercy.
If the beloved chooses to kill me or to nurture me,
Submission is mine, and the command is the beloved’s.
Should I ever touch the sleeve of the beloved,
As long as I live, my head shall rest on their threshold.
No one leaves this world without regret,
Except the martyr of love, struck by the beloved’s arrow.
Since you, my beloved, no other has crossed Saadi’s heart,
For who in this world could ever take the place of the beloved?