خوش آنکہ رخت خرد را بہ شعلۂ می سوخت

خوش آنکہ رخت خرد را بہ شعلۂ می سوختمثال لالہ متاعی ز آتشے اندوخت

Happy the man who burned with flames of wine his intellectual goods. He gained a new thing from the flames, rich like the tulip’s fiery hue.

تو ہم ز ساغر می چہرہ را گلستان کنبہار خرقہ فروشی بہ صوفیان آموخت

Come you; too, give your face a vernal freshness with a cup of wine, for spring makes pious Sufis sell their garments for that stuff.

دلم تپید ز محرومی فقیہ حرمکہ پیر میکدہ جامی بہ فتوئی نفروخت

I felt great pity for the jurist, when I heard the taverner refused to buy of him a legal ruling for a cup of wine.

مسنج قدر سرود از نوای بی اثرمز برق نغمہ توان حاصل سکندر سوخت

Do not judge music by my ineffectual songs. A lightening flash of it can burn an Alexander’s whole domain.

صبا بہ گلشن ویمر سلام ما برسانکہ چشم نکتہ وران خاک آن دیار افروخت

O morning breeze, convey my greetings to the happy Weimar town. The light that radiated from it has illumined many sages’ minds.
(Weimar: German town where Goethe spent most part of his life.)