Number 3

The dawn of good fortune shines from your forehead. What beauty is this? Sacred, sublime. I am the servant of that pure wine whose generosity refreshes my soul with every breath. There will be no drunken quarrel from me in your tavern; my life belongs to your beauty. How gentle that beauty is. Do not speak to the lover of the Kaaba or the temple; do not tell the one drunk on the beloved's face about heaven and paradise. If you would be one with God today, become singular now; do not chase tomorrow on credit, do not be a lover of some later day. My companions know the road is long and far, from the alley of purpose to the marketplace of desire. In your street I am lowly. What a lofty rank! With your face before me I am drunk. What a distant, ultimate goal! Since my bond with you is true, let me no longer speak of the standing of Adam and Eve. O guide of soul and heart and faith, let your boundless mercy, in kindness, forgive this helpless Qasim.