One cannot claim to have a heart,
If they resist giving it to such beauty’s art.

Neither is there a goal one can confess,
Nor escape from the snare of her loveliness.

I told my heart to avoid her eyes,
For the wise don’t tangle with one who defies.

Do you not see her henna-stained fingertips?
How they broke patience’s fragile grip?

Neither can one rise freely from her sway,
Nor sit calmly with her and stay.

If there is smoke, there must be fire,
If there’s blood, someone faced fate’s dire.

How can I sleep when her image is near?
To close the door to friends is unfair here.

One shouldn’t burn the weak’s harvest,
Nor wound the hearts of the downtrodden, oppressed.

A bond of friendship cannot be undone at last,
But perhaps it shouldn’t have been tied so fast.

Saadi’s heart is lost, flown far away,
Like an arrow that never returns to its stay.