In a time of joy, I found that flirtatious beloved of mine,
Cupbearer, bring the wine, musician, play that tune.

Tonight, the gathering of mystics glows from your face’s light—
But quietly, lest the watchers of beauty not learn of it.

Young man, you drank last night; your eyes give it away.
At least find a friend who can guard your secret well.

A lovely face and a sweet voice each hold their own delight—
Imagine the joy in one who has both beauty and song.

Turkish eyes and arched brows shoot arrows at my soul.
O Lord, who gave this archer that bow to strike hearts?

It’s a shame to keep the turmoil of love for her hidden—
Whisper it to the reed, and let it lift up the tune.

Shiraz is in an uproar from the mischief of your beautiful eyes,
I fear that your sweet riot may disrupt the city itself.

I am like a small bird with clipped wings, confined in a cage—
If you would break open the cage, I would surely take flight.