At dusk, at dawn I gaze upon your beauty --
A dazzling spectacle of rising moon and sun.

So far, the wayfarers have not discovered your footprints:
They stand staring at the stepstone of your door

Your glance of abundant grace did not satisfy;
We with the seeing eye know a glance from a glance.

Saqi, they've just arrived and taken their seats;
How is it that they've already gained intimacy?

Some you inspire with the madness of prostration:
They cannot tell their heads from your door.

Saqi, whoever comes by even a tinge of awakening
We see sitting in your assembly, oblivious to this world.

Men who are maddened by the thought of the goal
See not fellow travelers -- they are intent on the road.

Master, in what strange state your Darshan lives:
We always see his eyes moist with tears.