If the enemies' reproaches In myself I meditate,
'Twas not I that set the fashion Of wine-bibbing, anygate.

Since, for topers new, repentance All in vain is, how should I,
Whose ill-name the whole world's fable Is, amendment contemplate?

" King of madcaps " call me, witless, An thou wilt, for I indeed
Overpass, in lack of judgment, All creation, small and great.

With my heart's blood on the forehead Limn a mole, so all may know
That for thee, the unbeliever, I'm a sacrifice to Fate.

Take me upon trust, 'fore heaven, And pass on, lest thou perceive
That no dervish in this patchcoat Hideth, but a reprobate.

These my blood-bedropping verses To the Friend, o wind, recite,
Who my spirit's vein hath punctured With her lashes black and straight.

Draw thy skirt in, lest the droppings Of my bleeding heart it touch;
For th'effect will thee bespatter, If my wound thou irritate.

Toper if I be or Elder, What with folk have I to do?
I'm the keeper of my secret, Bide my time and go my gait.