غزل شمارهٔ 2335

The dissolutes are all assembled in the Magian monastery; give one bumper to that unique elder.

The blood-shedding master, love, has seized door and roof, and reason is fugitive from house to house.

That most mighty beauty flung aside one veil, and all the people of the time departed out of the veil.

The same is with the lovers who fell into this sea; what place is there for safety and security?

How shall love grow cold from the voice of reproach? A lion never runs from a woman’s scream.

Fill the bumper with the divine wine, leave not the “gods” of nature standing in the midst.

First give that bumper to the talkative soul, so that its speaking faculty may not utter any more legends.

Once speech is blocked, a torrent will come so that you will see not one sign left of beings and places.

What a fire Shams al-H. aqq-i Tabr¯ız has kindled! Brave, fire, congratulations, O flames!