English
Number 9
My head is restless with longing for you,
and the brand of desire for you is burned into my heart.
Perhaps the water of life and the sweet spring
are your ruby lips that scatter sugar.
Reveal yourself on the mountain of my chest,
for since the first day it has been your home.
The lovely gazelle in the eyes of all beauties
wanders entirely across your plain.
In this bright, heart warming garden
the rose is the flower of your beautiful face.
No cypress grows in the gardens of paradise
as graceful and well shaped as your stature.
We are ruined by the cup of love until judgment day;
Lord, what wine is in your goblet?
The glance of your drunken eyes robbed my heart;
my reason is busy with your plunder.
Eshragh, your creator's craftsman, wishes
to gaze upon you forever.