If most streams were not empty

Why would the master run thirsty in these lanes?

The vat in which there is no wine is a vat full of wind

How can a vat full of wind redden faces?

The thorns are empty, there is no scent of the rose in them

A blind man seeks the kindness of the rose and its scents from the thorn!

With a fiery quest, see the face like fire

Go quickly after its smoke in these directions

In the veils of musk-haired face, see, what a face!

The one whom God has washed, far from (worldly) washes

There is no veil on his face except the tip of his tress

Sometimes it becomes like a polo stick, sometimes it becomes balls

From the error of lovers, from the fever of his face

His image appears on those hairs

Alas, how many souls are bound hair by hair

Like flies, they have washed (themselves) on top of greasy dishes

When wine takes away reason, it is permissible that it has no color

Your beauty is like Joseph's, so what can I do with (my own) nature?

The gazelle of that narcissus (eye) is hunted by none but the lion

The soul becomes straight when he arches his eyebrows

The pride of the people of Tabriz, Shams al-Haqq, without harm

Fold upon fold, it is your love, open these folds