The garden is in bloom and the cypress is tall, we will not leave this vicinity.
Unveil your face and close the door, it's just you and me and an empty house.
Today we are the special companions of love, holding the carefree cup.
O minstrel with the sweet sound of the flute, you must lament beautifully.
O cheerful and happy cupbearer, bring the wine now.
So we may drink joyfully and sleep peacefully in the shadow of eternal grace.
You drank not through the throat and stomach, nor is sleep the result of nights.
O heart, I wish you would rub that cup on your eyes.
When you become completely lost in the wine, at that moment you are at perfection.
You will be sustained by that drink, without death, decay, or transition.
Leave theft and proceed joyfully, safe from the governor's punishments.
You say, show me where safety is, go on, for you are still in question.
O day, what a delightful day you are, a day better than a thousand years.
O all days are your servants, they are separation and you are union.
O day, who can see your beauty, O day of great beauty.
You see your own beauty, and that eye which rubs its ear.
O day, not a day of sunshine, you are a day from the light of the Almighty.
The sun bows every evening, seeking a crescent from your greatness.
O day hidden within the day, O day residing eternally.
O provider of days and nights, O grace from the south and north.
I will be silent about speaking of perfection, for you are beyond all perfection.
You do not appear through words, for you are more apparent than words and speech.
From words, imagination becomes apparent, you are beyond imagination and thought.
And that imagination and thought thirst for you, O you who gave water its clarity.
Both are dry-mouthed in the water of the soul, in a world full of self-emptying.
The rest of the poem is beyond the veil, hidden from you who are in distress.