Our way is full of cry and petition for yet more wine-
how else can the rend of love street achieve his ruin?
We have no greater trust than in the master’s glance;
we did not stumble this way on our own, or by chance.
Long, long ago we began to long for the friend;
and now our desire is that this longing never end.
Drunk with the beloved’s name, it matters not a whit
that the sober sneer at our condition, and avoid it.
Our sanctuary is the dark alley of love street,
where we find her eyes and lips beguiling and sweet.
What can I say about the much talked-about path,
when the arms of the friend arrest me in joyous mirth?
O Darvish, by God’s grace you importune and whine
for yet one more crystal glass of Shirazi wine.
