English
Number 20
Every moment I tear my collar, crying: don't pull your skirt away from me,
for I hunger for your face, I am reckless, in love, and out of my mind.
Tell those drunken, wine dark eyes of yours, you plundering beauty:
after all, what do you want from raiding so many hearts?
Sweep the darkness of your hair aside from that sunlit face,
so those who long for you may pass from night's darkness into day.
I am so single hearted in love that even if the blade falls on my head,
on the day of testing I will stand firm, upright like a candle.
From head to toe I am all soul, for I am drowned in the beloved's love;
my whole being is love, from head to toe, from head to toe.
I said, my heart is disheveled by your hair; she said: for a lover,
ruby wine is the cure for the sickness of longing.
Love pours down from Qasem, while the preacher offers piety and pretense;
between the sheikh and the master lies the distance of two horizons.