The Playful Beloved

In a moment of joy I found that playful, teasing beloved. Cupbearer, bring that cup of wine; musician, strike up that song. Tonight, when the gathering of the wise is lit by the candle of your face, keep it quiet, so the pleasure-seeking rogues never catch wind of it. Last night, boy, you had been drinking; your eyes give you away. For once, look for a companion who can keep a secret. A lovely face and a lovely voice each hold their own delight; imagine, then, the delight of a sweet-voiced beloved who has both. Those Turkish eyes and those brows shoot arrows straight into the soul. God, who handed a bow like that to such a Turkish archer? The passion and grief of loving him: what a shame to keep it hidden. Whisper a hint into the reed flute, and let it lift its voice. Shiraz is in an uproar over the mischief of your lovely eyes; I fear your sweet turmoil will turn the whole city upside down. I am a little bird with clipped wings, and so I sit in the cage. If you were to break that cage, I would show you how I could fly. Sa'di, you are a clever bird, yet I have lured you into my snare; it is hard for anyone to catch a royal falcon like you.