1. The origin of the beloved and the wine cup,
And I shun blame and advice.

2. Ask the cupbearer to pass by with it,
And the forehead of dawn has become clear.

3. So is the life anything but tranquility,
And a potion that grants joy?

4. I hid from its gentleness, so it conversed
With a whim in a presented idea.

5. If an ascetic in his time saw
The face of its bearer, he would wish for it.

6. And I fear that if it touches comfort,
It will not conceal the wine cup.

7. The breeze did not quench me, its bearer,
Rather, ardor and joy quenched me.

8. Love granted me its eyelashes,
Which killed many granted it.

9. I kept healing with it and because of it,
While my blood from its eyelashes gushed.

10. And when will wounds heal if
Its healer was the one who gashed?

11. So I watered the meadow for some time,
When attachment to it was generous.

12. Wondrous is time in its wonders,
While it is led when it raged.

13. It gathered us for a meeting at night,
And cast us apart at dawn.

14. It cried, "If the agony of love comes generously,
Call a thousand to me with it."

15. So if you ask about me, say,
"A specter that left dejected."

16. The embers of passion spent the night praying
With the flint of lightning that sparked.

17. And its doves shed tears
From a cooing, moaning dove.

18. Then its breath expired, so it passed away,
While passion and fervor did not wane.