English
No Days Are Sweeter Than the Days of Love
No days are sweeter than the days of love;
for lovers, the morning never turns to night.
The musicians have gone, yet the mystic still whirls in ecstasy:
love has a beginning, but no end.
Every seeker's desire has its limit,
but for those who truly know, desire is boundless.
Out of thousands, only one is stirred by the music,
for not everyone is fit to hear the message.
Only the intimate ones grasp this meaning;
in the private chamber there is no room for the crowd.
The aloe gives off no fragrance until it burns:
the seasoned one knows these words are not for the raw.
Everyone speaks the name of the beloved they have;
our beloved has no name at all.
For all the cypress's grace,
beside your form it has no form worth naming.
Ask me about intoxication, about the fever of love;
how could one who has never tasted the wine of pain ever know?
The morning breeze and the soil of Shiraz are a fire:
whoever it catches finds no rest.
It is your untimely sleep that leads you astray,
not the call of dawn, which never comes too soon.
Sadi, now that you have broken the idols, do not become one yourself;
worshipping your own self is no better than worshipping idols.