My heart's sad case to thee To say my soul's desire is |
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For Jem's cup our heart requirement Of us many a year made |
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When thy face's mirrored semblance On the goblet's shine befalleth |
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At my ogling, in amazement All the tribe of lackwits goeth |
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Of thy love the young shoot Of amazement there cometh |
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Cupbearer, come: our boat On th'ocean of wine cast thou |
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The Moon thou, and I am the candle That fades when the dawn grows red |
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For the cark of the time, whereunto Bound or confine I see not |
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The Garden of Eternity's The privy cell of Dervishes |
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O hoopoe of the East, To Sheba's air I send thee |
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