By the mole of your lip oh Beloved lovesick I became,

Seeing your enamoured eyes and enamored I became.

I cried, "I am right" while I was ecstatic,

Like "Mansūr" fond of hanged upon the gallowsI became.

The separation of the Beloved caused my soul burst into a shower of sparks,

So much that I was fed up and renowned throughout the market I became.

Let the tavern be open day and night to me,

As with the mosque and school fed up I became.

The hypocracy garment I took off, and wore,

The cloak of the tavern elder and sober I became.

The city preacher who teased me by his advice,

By the tongue of an drunk rogue so needy I became.

Let me mention of the idol temples,

I, who by the hand of the idol of the tavern awakend became.

Send To Friend