O cupbearer of wine, hasten to prayer

Fill our glass with wine, for it has emptied

My body is my glass, and your face is my coffee

O perfect in beauty, kindness, and loftiness

No lover has triumphed with your face for an hour

Except that in rejection, he has vanished from affliction

Death in meeting you, O full moon, is good

Far be it from you, rather meeting you is safety from affliction

When your love recited attributes to my soul

In it are doves receiving what it recited

You gave me to drink wine from your beautiful glance

Until my heart was cleared with the best of clearings