It is morning, and dew is dripping from the Bahmani cloud,

Prepare the morning draught and give a cup of one man (measure).

I have fallen into the sea of 'I' and 'me'; bring

Wine so that it may deliver me from 'I' and 'me'.

Drink the blood of the cup, for its blood is lawful,

Be in the service of the beloved, for it is a deed to be done.

Be ready, O cupbearer, for sorrow is lying in wait for us,

O minstrel, keep to this very path that you are playing.

Give wine, for the harp brought its head to my ear and said,

Enjoy yourself and listen to this bent old man (the harp).

O cupbearer, give wine to the carefree dervishes,

So that you may hear from the voice of the singer 'He is the Rich'.