I saw a few fresh bouquets of flowers

Growing on a dome of plants

I said: What was this insignificant plant

That it too sits in the row of flowers?

The plant wept and said: Be silent

The forgetful worm does not speak

Though I lack beauty, color, and fragrance

Am I not still a plant of His garden?

I am a servant of the Generous Lord

Nurtured by His ancient grace

Whether I am without skill or skilled

My hope is in the kindness of the Lord

Though I possess no wealth

Nor the capital of obedience

He knows the remedy for His servant's troubles

When no means remain for him

It is the custom of the masters of liberation

To free the old servant

O Lord, the adornment of the world

Have mercy on Your old servant

Saadi, take the path to the Kaaba of contentment

O man of God! Take hold of God's door

Wretched is the one who turns away

From this door, seeking another