غزل شمارهٔ 2713

Out of drunkenness and dissolution I have become such that I do not know earth from water.

I do not find anyone in this house—you are sober; come, perhaps you will find.

I only know that the assembly was set up first by you; I do not know if you are wine or kabob.

Inwardly you are the soul of the soul of the soul, outwardly you are the sun of the sun.

You are sweet-enchanting for you are the Messiah; you burn up d¯ıvs for you are a meteor.

Make me happy-tempered, for you are wine; make me sweetsmelling for you are rose-water.

You are the zephyr, for you make the garden to laugh, though to the thirsty you are torture.

Come, see the numerous drunkards in the bazaar, if you are a bailiff and making a census.

Like beggars for bread now questioning, like sufferers now responding.

Your smile is brief as a lightning flash, so you are a prisoner in the shadows of the clouds.

Enter the assembly of the Eternal king; behold circulating the porringers like water troughs.

You are a lovely ruby, but you are in the mine; you are very beautiful, but you are in the veil.

If to the king you fly, you are the white falcon; if to the graveyard you fly, you are the raven.

Youthful of fortune, clap hands and say, “Youth, O youth, O youth!”

Say no word to anyone, if he presses you hard; only say, “God knows best what is right.”