غزل شمارهٔ 2805

What a joyous pleasure it will be, what a charming spectacle, when such a part returns to the source of the source!

Wine will come from every side to its hand, without a cup, from every side to its eye, a darling, enchanting fair—

A darling who, did the granite rock catch scent of her ruby, the granite rock would receive life to become conscious.

The wine stole one attribute from the lips of my darling; inevitably the soul became a wine-bibber for the love of those lips.

In dawn a monk went along with me on the way to the monastery; I saw him a fellow-sufferer and fellow-worker with myself.

He brought to me, that auspicious companion, a bowl— from that bowl my soul became out of itself, a drunkard.

In the middle of my unselfedness the Tabriz of Shams al-D¯ın displayed succor for the helpless ones in unity with Him.