II: What wonderfully delicious wine is this

What wonderfully delicious wine is this,
Which the cupbearer, with welcome, presents!

The laughing of the bud in the parterre were impossible,
Did not the zephyr, every morning, over it pass.

Its counsel regarding the nightingale was this,
That the morn should the rosebud's garment rend.

Appreciate thou the value of Philomel, O rose,
Although thou bloomest in this thy beauty now!

Since his cure dependeth upon the object of his heart,
Of the lover's disease, what do physicians know?

Save the beloved-one's beaming countenance, imagine not
That Khushhal will be, with any other face, content.