1. If you've unveiled my path, then let a morning drink pour forth, for I am bound to remain unawakened;
And pour it gently like a mist of longing or a tear of the yearner.

2. So it's only fitting you see me unfit in abstinence;
What you see of the meadows to the elegant pasture,

3. Wearing a gown of flowers embroidered with anemones,
Its sleeves folded, the rain fulfilled in a pouring robe,

4. As if the garden after the drops at dawn
Were gold in lazuli and pearls in carnelian,

5. And the tide flowed, making therein a river of Khaluq,
Like the folds of twilight and the shadow amidst them looming,

6. My friend, when he insists I partake of the wine, is no friend of mine,
And the cradle's pact is the covenant of my bosom friend.

7. Never delay to water at morn the thirsty plants,
And quench me with restfulness and melodious strings,

8. Which the plucker of sorrows pours forth like an ancient sword,
Mixing rest with the water of the tide in a delicate cup,

9. As one intentionally mixes syrup with syrup,
Or as fires are put out with fires.