This day, at the tavern, with the drunk we sit
This day, we let go of piety, prayer and holy writ
This day, what can I say, what a feast and wine is it
This day, the cup-bearer is kind and full of wit

This day, no sign of our passage, not even one whit
This day, with the beloved I am a hit
This day, the cup-bearer does not fret a bit
This day, jugs and flowing wine and joy are closely knit

This day, from joy, night and morn cannot split
This day, own senses, hour and time cannot fit
This day, afire, passionately we are lit
This day, this joyous feast, joy shall never quit

This day, torn from ourselves, worship of wine we admit
This day, all we ask for, be in beloved’s unit
True Light of Tabriz showed his foes the way out of the pit
This day, by divine wine, not by superstitious grit.