Come, O cupbearer, that wine which brings ecstasy,

Increases generosity, brings perfection.

Give it to me, for I have fallen very disheartened,

And from both of these I have fallen fruitless.

Come, O cupbearer, that wine whose reflection from the cup,

Sends a message to Kay Khosrow and Jamshid.

Give it so that I may say, with the sound of the reed flute,

Who Jamshid was and who Kavus was.

Come, O cupbearer, that alchemy of conquests,

Which, with the treasure of Qarun, gives the life of Noah.

Give it so that they may open again before you

The door of prosperity and long life.

Give me, O cupbearer, that wine from which Jam's cup

Boasts of vision in nonexistence.

Give it to me so that I may become, with the confirmation of the cup,

Like Jamshid, aware of the entire secret of the world.

Speak of the journey of this ancient monastery (world).

Send a call to the former kings.

This ruined world is the same dwelling,

That has seen the palace of Afrasiab.

Where is the counsel of the elders of his army?

Where is Shideh, that dagger-wielding Turk?

Not only did his palace and mansion go to the wind,

But no one even remembers his tomb.

This distant desert is the same stage,

Where the army of Salm and Tur was lost in it.

Give me, O cupbearer, that wine whose reflection from the cup

Sends a message to Kay Khosrow and Jamshid.

How well said Jamshid with crown and treasure:

That «the transient world is not worth a barley grain».

Come, O cupbearer, that radiant fire,

That Zoroaster seeks it under the earth.

Give it to me so that in the way of the intoxicated libertines,

«Whether fire-worshipper or world-worshipper».

Come, O cupbearer, that virgin, hidden, intoxicated wine,

That has a seat in the taverns.

Give it to me, for I want to become infamous;

I want to become ruined by wine and the cup.

Come, O cupbearer, that thought-burning water (wine),

That if a lion drinks it, it becomes a forest-burner.

Give it so that I may go to the sky, the lion-catcher;

And disrupt the trap of this old wolf (time/fate).

Come, O cupbearer, that wine that the houris of paradise,

Mixed the perfume of angels in it.

Give it so that I may make an incense burner in the fire;

And make the sense of wisdom fragrant forever.

Give me, O cupbearer, that wine that gives "kingship"

My heart testifies to its purity.

Give me wine so that I may become pure from defects.

And raise my head from this abyss with revelry.

When the garden of spiritual beings becomes my dwelling,

Why am I imprisoned by my body here?

Give me wine and see the face of fortune;

Ruin me and see the treasure of wisdom.

I am the one who, when I take the cup in my hand,

I see, in that mirror, everything that is.

In intoxication, I speak of kingship;

I speak of royal power in beggary.

In intoxication, one can drill the pearls of secrets,

For in "selflessness" secrets cannot be hidden.

That when "Hafez" composes a song drunkenly,

Venus gives the sound of the lute from his sphere.

Where are you, O minstrel? With the melody of the lute,

Remember that royal song;

So that I may arrange ecstasy,

And come to dance and play with the dervish's cloak.

With the fortune of the possessor of crown and throne,

The best fruit of the royal tree.

The sovereign of the earth, the king of time,

The moon of the tower of fortune, the prosperous king,

For the stability of the royal throne is from him,

The comfort of body for birds and fish is from him.

The light of the heart and eyes of the fortunate ones,

The benefactor of the souls of the wise;

O auspicious homa bird with a fortunate gaze,

Blessed messenger of good news,

The sky does not have a pearl like you in its shell.

Fereydun and Jamshid do not have a successor like you.

Remain for years in place of Alexander.

With a wise heart, discover the circumstances.

The world has other days of turmoil ahead,

Me and intoxication and the turmoil of the beloved's eyes.

Time knows how to strike with a sword,

Time makes another a penman.

O minstrel, play that innovative song.

Say to the companions with the sound of the lute:

"I will eventually have an opportunity over the enemy

For there is news of victory from the sky."

O minstrel, create a melody of joy.

Begin the story with words and ghazal;

For the burden of my sorrow has nailed my feet to the ground.

Lift me from this place with the rhythm of the music.

O minstrel, with the melody of the lute,

Sing and play the royal song.

Make the souls of the great ones happy with yourself;

Remember Parviz and Barbad.

O minstrel, bring a melody from that mode.

See what the keeper of the veil said from within.

Raise the sound of your minstrelsy so high,

That you bring Venus with her harp to dance.

Play a melody so that the Sufi goes into a trance;

And is referred to the intoxication of union (with God).

O minstrel, prepare the daf (frame drum) and the chang (harp);

With a pleasant manner, give voice to a melody.

The deception of the world is a clear story;

See what it will give birth to, the night is pregnant.

O minstrel, I am weary, play a duet.

Play a melody related to His oneness.

I keep seeing wonders from the turning of the heavens.

I do not know whom the earth will take.

Again, the Magian libertine is kindling a fire,

I do not know whose lamp he is extinguishing.

In this blood-scattering arena of resurrection,

You pour the blood of the flask and the cup (wine).

Send the good news of a song to the intoxicated ones.

Send greetings to the departed friends.