Someone saw a beautiful figure

His state was changed by the turmoil of love

The poor guy shed so much sweat

Like dew on a sheet of May

Hippocrates passed by him on horseback

Asked what had befallen him

Someone said this is a pious worshiper

Who never committed a mistake

He roams day and night in the desert and mountains

Fleeing from company, vexed by people

A heart-stealer has stolen his heart

His glance is stuck in the mud of love

When he hears reproach from people

He cries, saying how much reproach? Silence

Do not say I am not excused if I lament

For my cry is not without a reason

This image does not steal hearts from hands

The heart is stolen by the one who painted this image

An experienced man heard this speech

An old man nurtured with mature opinion

He said, although a good reputation spreads

Not everything said goes with everyone

Did the painter have only this image

That stole the heart of the distressed?

Why does a one-day-old child not lose his wits?

For in seeing the creation, what matters old or young

A true scholar sees the same in a camel

As in the beautiful faces of China and Chigil

Each line of this book is a veil

Laid over a captivating face

There are meanings under the black letters

Like the beloved behind the curtain and the moon behind the cloud

Sadness does not fit in Saadi's pages

For he has many beauties behind the curtain

I have these words that light up the assembly

Like fire, it has both light and burn

I do not get upset if the enemies writhe

For they are feverish from this Persian fire