The dust of my beloved's street is the water of my life,
If there’s joy in both worlds, it lies in the sorrow of their face, O friend.
There is no commotion in the city but the waves of their tresses,
No turmoil in the world but the curve of their brows, O friend.
The remedy for the yearning heart is the poison from their hand,
The balm for lovers’ wounds is the blows from their arms, O friend.
If my beloved accepts me as their servant,
My ear would wear their earring like a mark till eternity, O friend.
If my body’s dust scatters throughout the world,
No wind could carry my remains away from their street, O friend.
If the night of separation brings death upon me,
On the Day of Judgment, I will pitch my tent beside my beloved, O friend.
Every ghazal of mine is a letter, capturing my state of longing,
But what use is writing letters if they do not reach my beloved, O friend?
Boast not, Saadi, that your poetry is enchanting like magic,
For the enchanting glances of your beloved need no sorcery, O friend.