Leave him who never won to sight,
And bears report alone;
Who makes long speech, but the delight
Of vision gives to none.

To bard and scholar listened I,
Philosopher to boot;
Although their palm is proud and high,
It yields nor leaf nor fruit.

The gleam that hoary acolyte
So prides himself upon
Reveals a thousand shades of night,
But never glow of dawn.

I have a charge ‘gainst God to lay
That still I keep concealed;
He takes my precious heart away,
And Joseph does not yield.

Neither in idol-house nor shrine
That Saqi I can find
To grant, no ember’s fitful shine,
But splendour unconfined.