He comes, a moon whose like the sky ne'er saw, awake or dreaming. Crowned with eternal flame no flood can lay. Lo, from the flagon of thy love, O Lord, my soul is swimming, And ruined all my body's house of clay!
When first the Giver of the grape my lonely heart befriended, Wine fired my ***** and my veins filled up; But when his image all min eye possessed, a voice descended: 'Well done, O sovereign Wine and peerless Cup!'
Love's mighty arm from roof to base each dark abode is hewing, Where chinks reluctant catch a golden ray. My heart, when Love's sea of a sudden burst into its viewing, Leaped headlong in, with 'Find me now who may!'
As, the sun moving, clouds behind him run, All hearts attend thee, O Tabriz's Sun!