When my Beloved the cup in hand taketh,
The market of lovely ones slack demand taketh.

I, like a fish, in the ocean am fallen,
Till me with the hook yonder Friend to land taketh.

Every one saith, who her tipsy eye seëth,
“Where is a shrieve, that this fair firebrand taketh?”

Lo, at her feet in lament am I fallen,
Till the Beloved me by the hand taketh.

Happy his heart who, like Hafiz, a goblet
Of wine of the Prime Fore-eternal's brand taketh!