You arrived late, O intoxicated beloved,
Yet we won’t release your hem so hurried.

The fire of your love could not be doused,
No matter how much wisdom we espoused.

One cannot turn away from your decree,
Nor close the door to your beauty’s plea.

I cannot find escape from your presence,
Like a fish caught tight in a snare’s essence.

Desire for the sweet-lipped ones has undone,
The pious vows of many a devout one.

O tall cypress of this fragrant garden,
Beside your stature, all trees are hardened.

Wretched is the one who parts from you,
Blessed is the soul who remains true.

Your playful glance spilled my blood so pure,
Why should a drunken slayer care to demur?

Saadi cannot escape the snare of the fair,
As long as his soul remains ensnared there.

If you don’t bow at their threshold’s crest,
What door remains for you to seek the rest?