Since there is no one to be our companion in Love
           the prayer-mat is for the pious; wine-dregs and vice for us.

A place where people’s souls turn and twist like polo balls
           is not a place for rogues; so what’s that got to do with us?

If the wine-bringers of the spirit sit with the devout
          their wine is for the ascetics; lees and hangovers for us.

Cure is for the purists, consternation for the broken,
         joyfulness for the do-gooders; while grief is our remembrance.

O pretender, you are not here to witness our wealth
        as the Beloved extorted all that we owned within us.

Words of experience came from the messenger of truth:
        O weary, as you make your way, shed your grief for us.

Attār was absorbed in sorrow along this Path.
        Because he’s absolutely finished, his solace is with us.