غزل شمارهٔ 2105

My saki rises without my speaking and brings that wine of abundant price.

There is no need for me to say, “Bring,” he hears the voice of my heart without mouth.

His intercessor is his own grace, his boundless generosity and goodness.

The moon rises, do not say to it, “Arise”; it casts light on you, do not say, “Cast.”

O you in time of festivity, the best joy and pleasure and in time of battle, the greatest breaker of ranks.

Excellent guide for all who have lost the way, fine rope for all imprisoned in the well;

The world is like night, and you the moon; you are like a candle, the souls a sconce.

The soul is restless like a mote; with you it becomes tranquil, O excellent tranquillity.