Beloved! I've made for you many a lovely thing -
Wine cups fashioned out of jessamine petals,

Enchanting tales woven from your short breath or two
(which is all your speech to hint a yes or no) ,

Pearls strapped from rain drops coming down
When my ardour soared up the sky as a cloud,

Fields of flowers smiling where it was desolate land -
Made desolate, in fact, by these very hands of mine!

I came to taste life's nectar but, enslaved by illusion,
Wove my own thoughts as chains to fetter me.

I learnt about the saqi's new wine of motherland,
For which I fashioned new bowls with an ardent passion!

Those times are gone when you could beg, beseech and get!
I donned the robe of pride, with no hem for supplication.

Justice till now was to be had as freely as the air.
I set up shops in every street to have it freely sold!

Many a covetous man was enticed with liberal sweets,
And many a simple soul with visions of the hereafter!

I adore the company of friends - all my brothers!
That's why, despite my faith, I've built a temple at home.

Mahjoor, I've set up shops for your wine in every place,
For it restores to sobriety those who've got drunk!