Come, gardener! Create the glory of spring! Make
Guls bloom and bulbuls sing - create such haunts!

The dew weeps, and your garden lies desolate;
Tearing their robes, your flowers are distracted.
Breathe life once again into the lifeless gul and the bulbul!

Rank nettles hamper the growth of your roses.
Weed them out, for look thousands
Of hyacinths are crowding at the gate!

Who will set you free, captive bird,
Crying in your cage? Forge with your own hands
The instruments of your deliverance!

Wealth and pride and comfort, luxury and authority,
Kingship and governance - all these are yours!
Wake up, sleeper, and know these as yours I

Bid good-bye to your dulcet strains. To rouse
This habitat of flowers, create a storm,
Let thunder rumble, - let there be an earthquake!