The sorrow of time, whose end I cannot see
Its remedy, except for wine like the Persian lilac, I cannot find.
I will not say to leave the service of the old Magian
Because I do not see my own benefit in that.
Take the height of pleasure from the sun of the cup
Because I do not see the fortune of the time as such.
The sign of God’s people is love, keep that in mind
For I do not see this sign in the city’s shaykhs.
A thousand regrets for these two bewildered eyes of mine
That with two mirrors, I cannot see your face clearly.
Until your stature becomes a stream from my eye
Instead of a cypress, I see nothing but flowing water.
In this intoxication, no one gives me a sip
See, I do not see a sincere heart among them.
Do not ask me about the sign of the lock of hair between your eyes that I am attached to
For I myself cannot see it within.