Happy the heart of him who has passed unknown,
who has not been clothed in a robe of ceremony, nor in
luxurious garments, nor in stuffs of great price, who,
like the simourg, is lifted into the skies to the place of
his delight as the owl sits among the ruins of this world.
Drinkers alone know how to appreciate the language
of the roses and of wine, and not the feeble in heart or
the poor in spirit. Those who have no idea of what is
occult, to them ignorance is pardonable, for drunkards
alone can understand what belongs to such an order of
of things.
Once in the tavern, one can make his ablutions only
with wine. There, when a name is soiled, it cannot be
restored. Bring, then, some wine, since the veil of our
shame is torn in such a manner that it cannot be repaired.
Pierced with a vain hope, I have thrown to the wind
a part of my existence, and that without having known
here below a day of happiness. That which I fear now
is that time will prevent me from seizing the opportunity
to make amends for the past.
Alas! my heart has not been able to find any remedy
[for its grief], my soul has arrived at the edge of my
lips [death], without having attained the object of its love.
Alas! my life has passed in ignorance, and the enigma
of this love has not been explained.