When flowers deck themselves into ruby bloom,
The sufis break their vows of abstinence.
When love has ruled men’s hearts, it has bestowed
Upon mendicants more riches than Perviz’s wealth.
Too old are the stars, too shaky this ancient dome,
I need a world which bursts with the vigour of youth.
I know not the tumult of the day of doom;
My day of doom is the dazzle of Thy glance.
Take not from me the pleasure of sighs at dawn,
And cloud not with neglect Thy eye of grace.
Too blithe a spirit is the nightingale,
Too cheerful are the flowers for a mournful heart