Sufî, hither gaze! for brightly shines the Mirror of the Cup;
Gaze into the ruby wine, and see what thing it flingeth up.

No one ever [noticed]1 the Anka -- God's Bird -- throw away thy snare!
All its mesh can ever catch thee, in this world, is empty air.

Cleave to pleasures of the Present! Adam, judging otherwise,
Lost his altered House of Peace; the lovely lawns of Paradise.

At Time's table, quick to vanish, quaff a cup, ere thou must go;
Ask not what He will not give thee, leave to always banquet so.

Foolish, niggard Heart! Youth's flitted, and thou didst not pluck one Rose
From Life's red bush! What's remaining? name and fame at life's dull close?

Yet, except from drunkards, fuddled with God's glorious Wine, none learns
What was veiled: the bigot Zahid nothing of himself discerns.

Unto us will come the wages -- us who never left His Gate;
Lord! Thy slaves lie at Thy threshold: have Thou pity on their state!