غزل شمارهٔ 2283

Happy-cheeked saki of mine, give the cup like pomegranate blossom; if for my sake you will not give for the sake of the heart of the Beloved.

Saki, you are the darling, you are the sick man’s cure; quick, give the draft of gladness and healing to the sick.

Pour wine out in this bowl, smite the neck of anxiety; now, do not break my heart, my heart and sweetheart, and give.

Open that tavern, abandon this rowdiness; give to the thirststricken lover from the vintner’s vat.

You are the soul of spring and garden, the glory of cypress and jasmine; now make no excuses, roguish idol, but give!

When you set foot on trickery and start away from the drunkards’ hands our enemy will rejoice; despite strangers, give!

Give not grief and sighing, open the way only to joy; a sigh proceeds from the wayless; open the way; give audience.

We are all intoxicated of the encounter, athirst for the bumper of immortality; as pawns, give robe and turban before the saki.

I am athirst of old, hot of heart and breast; break the beaker and cup, give much, without measure.

You are both moon and moonshine, I am the fish of this water; the moon cannot reach the fish, so give generously of the moonshine.