1. My cup of wine
Has become pure in the tavern,

2. And bubbles of my morning star
Are not hidden in the cup.

3. By drinking the wine of my tavern,
The pillars of my illness are healed,

4. Thanks to the cupbearer of my comfort,
Who is the healer in taverns.

5. So the eye of my majesty testified,
It was affirmed without denying the affliction,

6. When the eye of my partying
Was not neglectful in remembrance.

7. I and the sun of my imamate
Rose in the pure night,

8. My polished light appeared
In the eye that was floating in my drink.

9. If you deny, my words will be proven
To those with barren hearts,

10. So my ignorance is an excuse
For them and enough from them.

11. If they felt my state,
They would rhyme with poetry.