Because of you I chose exile,
I’ve been estranged from my tribe for some time.
I watered my flower with my tears,
Injustice! Don’t take me away from my flower.
There’s nothing wrong if a king wants a pauper,
If a pauper desires a king, he can’t help it.
My desire is too high; my luck is too low,
There is no cure for this pain but death.
What’s with the melancholic ascetic?
He argues with me about faith and religion.
The religion of the lover is the beloved.
I’m taking no path but my own.
The sweet laughter—I didn’t love in vain.
I didn’t graft reason onto love.
She pulls me, she pulls me with her lasso-like braid.
How could I be separated from her ambergris-scented hair?
Peris, lovely, tall beauties –
Mazun won’t refuse if they want his soul.
I’ve put my head in their path.
My head’s bad luck is because of my tongue.