غزل شمارهٔ 20

The fast a side hath gone; and the Id hath come; and hearts have risen: In the wine-house, the wine hath come into tumult; and it is necessary to ask.

The season of austerity boasters, weighty of life, hath passed: Hath risen, the time of gladness and of joy-making of profligates.

Him, who like us drinketh the cup, what reproach reacheth? In regard to the profligate lover, neither is defect, nor is fault.

That wine-drinker in whom is neither the face, nor hypocrisy, Is better than an austerity-boaster, in whom is the face of hypocrisy.

We are neither hypocritical profligates, nor the companions of hypocrisy: Witness to this state is He, who “is the Knower-of-hearts.”

The ordinances of God, we perform; and do evil to none: Whatever they say is “unlawful,” we say not “it is lawful.”

What mattereth it - if thou and I drink some goblets of wine? Wine is of the blood of grapes; it is not of your blood.

This is not the defect that, from this defect, injury will be: And if it be the defect, what matter? The man without defect is where?