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From hand my heart goeth: help! help! Ye pious! By all that's Divine!
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If thou with kindness calls us, Pure grace it on thy part is
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There's none who fallen victim Unto thy tress is not
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Except the love of moonfaced maids, This heart of mine a way takes not
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In her face's time no lover Inclination for the mead hath
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There gleamed out a star and straightway The gathering's moon's become
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O East, by the Loved One's dwelling To fare deny thou not
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A Sojourn of peace and safety, Sheer wine and a loving friend
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In the Magians' stead the very Light of God I see
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To the courtiers of the Sultan Who will bear this prayer for me?
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