Now that to me the tavern’s door is closed,
It had better my own sorrow to the wine-seller will be told.
I am mad about that cup-bearer and the love’s cup,
I am in love with that beautiful face.
Like the moth we consume by the candle,
I am Majnoon and wandering on the love’s road.
Whom do I tell the secret of my sad heart,
I am thirsty and feel lik having a cup of wine from that old jar.
Take away the book from my side and fetch me cup of wine,
So that I seek whatever I can not find in all books.
The complicated course of science and wisdom I quit,
So that I get admission by the beloved for my curved hair.