By the mole of your lip oh Beloved lovesick I became,
Seeing your enamoured eyes and enamored I became.
I cried, "I am right" while I was ecstatic,
Like "Mansūr" fond of hanged upon the gallowsI became.
The separation of the Beloved caused my soul burst into a shower of sparks,
So much that I was fed up and renowned throughout the market I became.
Let the tavern be open day and night to me,
As with the mosque and school fed up I became.
The hypocracy garment I took off, and wore,
The cloak of the tavern elder and sober I became.
The city preacher who teased me by his advice,
By the tongue of an drunk rogue so needy I became.
Let me mention of the idol temples,
I, who by the hand of the idol of the tavern awakend became.