Where is this minstrel from, who speaks of my beloved’s name?
I would give my life and all I own for the beloved’s message to claim.

The heart revives with the hope of the beloved’s loyalty,
The soul dances to the rhythm of the beloved’s melody.

Whoever falls drunk from the goblet of the beloved’s love,
Will not return to themselves until the trumpet of resurrection is above.

If I were to journey to another land one day,
I would carry nothing but the beloved’s greeting along the way.

The wounds of a love-struck heart heal only by the beloved’s scent,
And if the soul must depart, it leaves only in the beloved’s name, content.

Once, I ruled over my own kingdom with might,
But now, by choice and devotion, I am the beloved’s servant outright.

If the beloved finds comfort in another and forgets me,
I have no other—none can take the beloved’s place, you see.

If I cannot place my foot on the roof of the beloved’s dwelling,
Then let me lay my head beneath its shelter, compelling.

A pauper’s name may never reach a monarch’s ears,
Alas for my poverty compared to the beloved’s grandeur, it appears.

If the beloved’s wish is Saadi’s death, I would not despair,
This is life enough for me—to die fulfilling the beloved’s care.