Ode VII

That moon, which the sky ne’er saw even in dreams, has returned
And brought a fire no water can quench,
See the body’s house, and see my soul,
This made drunken and that desolate by the cup of his love.
When the host of the tavern became my heart-mate,
My blood turned to wine and my heart to kabab.
When the eye is filled with thought of him, a voice arrives:
‘Well done, O flagon, and bravo, wine!’
Love’s fingers tear up, root and stem,
Every house where sunbeams fall from love.
When my heart saw love’s sea, of a sudden
It left me and leaped in, crying, ‘Find me.’
The face of Shamsi Din, Tabriz’s glory, is the sun
In whose track the cloud-like hearts are moving.