'Twixt wine and Jemshid's throne, give me the wine;
the bouquet of the cup is sweeter than the Virgin's
heaven-sent fruits. The morning sigh of one inebriate
the bygone night is more melodious than the longdrawn
lamentations of Adhem or Bou-Saïd.
O my heart! since the foundation, even, of the things
of this world is only a fiction, why do you venture thus
in an infinite gulf of sorrow? Trust yourself to destiny,
endure the evil, for the lot which the heavenly brush
has traced for you will not be effaced.
Of all those who have taken the long road, who is there
now returned of whom I may ask news? O friend! beware
of putting any hope whatever in this sordid world,
for, know well that thou here shalt ne'er return.
Since each of these nights and each of these days cuts
off a part of thy existence, allow not the nights or the
days to cover thee with dust. Pass them gaily, for how
long, alas! shalt thou be absent, while the nights and
days will still be here!
This wheel of heaven which tells its secrets to no man,
has killed a thousand Mahmouds [Sultans] and a thousand
Ayaz [favorites]; drink wine, for the life of none
shall ever be restored. Alas! not one of all those who
left the world can again return!