Pleasure is sweet, but sweeter by the stream’s side,
And wine with the melody of the sweet-voiced bird is amplified.

Is morning slumber by a jasmine field delightful?
No, resting beside a jasmine-scented beloved is more rightful.

The morning’s drowsy sleep from last night's wine’s embrace,
Is sweeter upon a wild poppy’s bed, a softer space.

Turn not your face away from the beloved to roam,
For gazing into the eyes of a loyal friend feels more like home.

The sound of a minstrel’s harp is sweet, you say,
But to us, the words of a kind companion outweigh.

If greenery graces the garden with a witness,
The bloom on the face of a flower-like beloved is endless bliss.

Think of the streams flowing with breeze-touched ripples fair,
Yet the twisted curls of the beloved’s hair are beyond compare.

Call it the Fountain of Paradise or the Garden of Eden’s rest,
But for us, the beloved’s street is sweeter and best.

Saadi! If you’ve not endured the beloved’s trial, you can’t measure,
For the heart’s desire is sweeter when sought through effort and treasure.