مست گشتم خویش بر غوغا زنم ** چه چه باشد خیمه بر صحرا زنم
I have become intoxicated, I will set about making a row: what of the well? I will pitch my tent in the open plain.
بر کف من نه شراب آتشین ** وانگه آن کر و فر مستانه بین
Put the fiery wine in my hand, and then behold the pomp and glory that is enjoyed by the drunken!
منتظر گو باش بی گنج آن فقیر ** زآنک ما غرقیم این دم در عصیر
Bid the fakir wait (though he is still) without the treasure, for at this moment we are drowned in the syrup (of union).
از خدا خواه ای فقیر این دم پناه ** از من غرقه شده یاری مخواه
Now, O fakir, seek refuge with God: do not seek help from me who am drowned;
که مرا پروای آن اسناد نیست ** از خود و از ریش خویشم یاد نیست 2020
For I have no concern with lending support (to you): I have no recollection of myself and my own beard.
باد سبلت کی بگنجد و آب رو ** در شرابی که نگنجد تار مو
How should there be room for wind of the moustache (self-assertion) and water of the face (personal reputation) in the wine in which there is no room for a single hair (of self-existence)?
در ده ای ساقی یکی رطلی گران ** خواجه را از ریش و سبلت وا رهان
Hand (him) a heavy (large) goblet, O cup-bearer: deliver the Khwája from his beard and moustache.
نخوتش بر ما سبالی می‌زند ** لیک ریش از رشک ما بر می‌کند
His arrogance is (contemptuously) curling a moustache at us, but he is (really) tearing out his beard in envy of us.
مات او و مات او و مات او ** که همی‌دانیم تزویرات او
(He is) mated by Him (God), mated by Him, mated by Him, for we are acquainted with his impostures.
از پس صد سال آنچ آید ازو ** پیر می‌بیند معین مو به مو 2025
The Pír is seeing distinctly, hair by hair, what will become of him (the Khwája) after a hundred years.