The rose that once has bloomed forever dies.

The moving finger writes; and having writ, moves on.

You know, my friends, with what a brave carouse I made a Second Marriage in my house; favored old barren reason from my bed, and took the daughter of the vine to spouse.

My friend, let's not think of tomorrow, but let's enjoy this fleeting moment of life.

Why ponder thus the future to foresee, and jade thy brain to vain perplexity? Cast off thy care, leave Allah’s plans to him – He formed them all without consulting thee.

Oh! My beloved! fill the cup, that clears to-day of past regrets and future fears.

I came like Water, and like Wind I go.