Qatra-e-mai bass ke hairat se nafas-parvar hua

The drop of wine, in wonder, breathed a life from worlds afar, The line upon the goblet's rim became a jeweled star.

Behold the ruin that a faith in passion leaves as scar; My rival sighed his grief, and I became an outcast star.

The fire of wealth consumes a noble name beyond repair; The ruby in its setting has become a dying glare.

He came, that mischief-maker, drunk and lost, no longer far; Today lost joy returned, the turning of the wine-filled jar.

The dark-lashed gaze in secret broke me, leaving but a scar; Each splinter of my bone became a lancet, sharp to mar.

This piety is dust around the rich man's gilded bar; My prayer-bead became a piece, blocked on a six-point star.

O you who hold your passions in, unbowed by what you bear, The wine of madness grows more fine, veiled by a fragile layer.

Asad, who in this garden grows his roots and stands afar, His tongue is blessed by praise from the great Sāqī-e-Kausar.