Poet's fortune is associated,
If the truth of life is to be guarded,
With self-skinning, thereby satiating
Hearts of people with the flow of ardor.
Poet's lot is singing far and near
Verses that are dearer to the heart.
Like a nightingale: it's never weary,
It is singing one and only part.
Canaries, assuming other voices,
Are ridiculous, pathetic trinkets.
People are in need of songful verses
To be sung, though like a toad, but freely.
In Koran, Mohammed was ingenious
In the prohibition of strong potions.
Nonetheless, a poet still continues
Drinking spirits, on his way for tortures.
Likewise, on his way to a beloved,
While his place is taken by another:
He is by reviving water guarded --
It will not occur to him to stab her.
But instead, aflame with jealous boldness,
On his way back home, he plainly whistles:
"What of it! I'll end my life a lone wolf.
In this plane, it isn't novel, either".