I have sat at your door, hoping that loyalty will boil over

Perhaps you will open a door and say, 'Arise and enter.'

My soul is immersed at your door in the scent of musk and ambergris

O hundred thousand mercies upon your beautiful face forever

We are intoxicated and heavy-headed, free from the work of others

Even if the world is turned upside down, may your love remain

Your love claps its hands and creates a hundred other worlds

A hundred new centuries will be born beyond the heavens and the void

O laughing love like a rose, O beautiful in sight like the perfect intellect

Draw the sun into your robe, O knight, come

Today we are your guests, intoxicated by your smiling face

When I mention the name of your face, my heart, by God, goes out of place

Where is a roof other than your roof, where is a name other than your name?

Where is a cup other than your cup, O sweet-mannered cupbearer?

If I could find a living soul, I would seize his skirt

I wish I were asleep, that you would show your face in a dream

O you who have retinues and servants at your door, come out, O dignified one

For I am intoxicated and happy from that intoxicating, heart-stealing eye

Behold the lamentation and the blood of the eye, behold a hundred torn garments

Behold the blood of the liver entwined around the neck and face and nape

Whoever sees your face and does not become mad, tell me who?

He is a stone and a clod of earth, why would I wish trouble for him?

Is there a worse suffering and calamity than that the soul is unaware of you?

O king and sultan of mankind, do not test a soul with blindness

Souls are flowing like a flood to the shore of the sea of the soul

Cut off from acquaintances, they have become acquainted with the sea

One flood is flowing in yearning, another flood has lost its way

That one says 'Praise be to God,' and this one says 'Ah, there is no power nor strength save with God.'

O sun that has come and become a cupbearer for the destitute

Has struck itself upon its servants, a time of generosity, a time of bestowal

The flower suddenly saw you and tore its soul and garment

And that wretched harp, from your playing, has cast down its head in shame

Who is the most fortunate and of good omen in the house of Venus? The reed flute

For it places its lips upon your lips so that it may learn melody from you

The reeds, and especially the sugarcane, have girded their loins in this hope

They have become dancing in the reed bed, meaning 'You honor whomever You will'

Without you, the harp and the reed flute are sad, that one carries away the embrace, and this one the kiss

The tambourine said, 'Strike upon my face so that my face may find value'

Make this fragmented soul happily fragmented and intoxicated

So that what it missed last night, it may make up for this moment

It is a pity, O greatest king, to make such a one as this sober

By God, I will not say after this, 'Explain your sobriety,' O God

Either give wine and do not seek proof, or you yourself arise and go

Or the story of this servant with your grace has become Sufi-like