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My tears water my garden green. The
fragrance of the rose enchants my soul,
ignites my heart. Wine-server, the cup!
Radiance illuminates our feasting all night
long. What is this glamour shining through
the gloom? My heart’s blood, glowing.
I’ve drunk my cup of cherished grief. Love’s
the torment of my wounded heart. I tear the
healing scars apart, find rapture in the pain.
I’ll let the winds of care play through my soul
like breezes that caress the Beloved’s curls.
I have risen to fortune from despair.
If the feeble candle flickers and fails in the
house of prayer, another light, more fierce,
shall flame up from the furnace of my sighs.
The fragrant winds that wake with the dawn
take your soul away and drench it with delight.
All day long, Makhfi, you smell like Paradise.
