Once, my lovesick heart wandered in the gardens,
Lost myself in the scent of flowers and basil blossoms.

At times, the nightingale sang its cries; at times, the rose tore its garment,
But thinking of you, I forgot all of those charms.

Your love resides in hearts, your name on every lip,
Your passion fills every mind, your secret dwells in every soul.

Since I pledged myself to you, I’ve broken all other bonds,
After you, breaking every other promise seems fair.

When the thorn of your love clings to my hem,
It’s short-sightedness to seek solace in any garden.

One afflicted with such a pain that renders them powerless,
Must relinquish hope in all worldly remedies.

If I endure hardship in seeking you, it’s only fitting,
When love is for the sacred, even deserts seem easy to cross.

Should every arrow in the quiver strike my wounded heart,
Let me be among those sacrificed in your name.

Those who glance at a beloved with arched-brow beauty,
Must be ready to shield against every arrow.

They say, “Saadi, why speak endlessly of this love?”
I say it, and after me, these words will echo through time.