The service of the sun of truth and religion is your remembrance, O cupbearer

What is the point of your constant circling of the wine, O cupbearer?

O rose-cheeked cupbearer, do not make this reason of ours a thorn from the wine

So that all this thorn-thicket of yours may become a rose, O cupbearer

Make the peacock-like cup fly around the garden of the feast

So that this snake and lizard of ours may become like a peacock, O cupbearer

Leave the work, load the wine onto the horse of the cup

So that this work and burden of yours may pass beyond Saturn, O cupbearer

As long as you are in honor, be a pearl in your own bond

The earth makes you, O hard soul, lowly, O cupbearer

Open the beehive of the spring of the wine towards pleasure

So that every eye and face of yours may become a spring, O cupbearer

Drive the uninitiated reason out of the solitude of that wine

So that that idol may show its pomegranate-like face, O cupbearer

Take selflessness from the wine and go aside from selfhood

So that your beloved may take you in their embrace, O cupbearer

You will become out of hand, seeing your pleasure aside

When your silver-breasted beloved takes you in their embrace, O cupbearer

Sometimes you take the beloved in your arms out of selflessness

When you become more selfless, they will take you in their embrace, O cupbearer

From the wine of Tabriz, turn the large cups one after another

So that it may carry away the strings of your shameful harp, O cupbearer