غزل شمارهٔ 80

Today give in full measure that pure wine; strike in utter confusion this hasty wheel of heaven.

Even granted that the unseen bowl has come hidden from the eyes, it is not possible to conceal drunkenness and depravity.

Love, whose trade is joy, sweet of speech and sweet of thought, snatch now the veil from the face of that veiled king;

Auspicious one, that cries of exultation may arise from this side and that, ho, fill up, rosy of cheek, flagon and bowl.

If you do not wish the rosebower to be disclosed, why did you open the rosewater shop?

Having robbed us of our senses and set this river flowing, fling into the water with all speed the water-duckling.

O soul, we are as corn sprung in this expanse, dry of lip and seeking with our lives the cloud-borne rain.

On every side a new messenger declares, “You will never find; depart!” Cry “God forfend” against that ill-omened crow.

Riot-provoker of every spirit, purse-robber of every Goha, filching the rebeck from the hand of B¯u Bakr the Lutanist,

Today I desire that you should intoxicate and craze this chatterbox soul, that wordy reason.

Water of life to us, become manifest as the resurrection, what though the milk of the scabby camel is life to the bedouin.

Very lovely is your majesty and beauty; be silent and hold your breath, make not aware of us every heedless one drowned in slumber.