The garden is here, springtime, and the tall cypress—we will not go back from these surroundings.
Open the veil and close the door; here are we, you and I, and the empty house.
Today I am the special companion of love, having seized the cup of I-do-not-care.
Minstrel sweet of melody, sweet of reed, you must lament mighty sweetly.
Saki, joyous and happy, bring the wine forward immediately
That we may drink happily and sleep sweetly in the shadow of eternal grace—
Drink not by way of throat and stomach, sleep not as the result of nights.
O heart, I desire you to rub that cup upon your eyes;
When you become completely annihilated in the wine, that hour you are perfect existence.
You will remain constant from He gave them to drink, without death and annihilation and transfer.
Give up thievishness, and go around happily, secure from the governor’s tortures.
You say, “Show where security is”; go, go, for still you are questioning!
O day of such happiness, what day are you? O day, you are better than a thousand years.
All days are your slaves; they are separation, you are union.
O day, who shall behold your beauty? O day, you are tremendous in beauty.
You behold your own beauty, and that eye whose ear you box!
O day, you are not day from the sun; you are day through the light of the All-Glorious.
Every evening the sun prostrates itself; it begs for quittance of your moon.
O day, hidden in the middle of the day, O day, you abide eternally.
O daily bread of days and nights, O gentleness of north and south winds,
I will be silent from speaking of perfection, for you are beyond every perfection.
You become not manifest in words, for you are more manifest than all discourse;
By words spoken thoughts become manifest—you are above imagination and thought,
And that imagination and thought are athirst for you, you who have given smoothness to water.
Both of these are dry-mouthed in the water of spirit; in the world full, of self empty.
The rest of the ode is veiled from you behind the curtain, for you are aweary.
