A man whom I wish speak to, likes not to perceive,
There is a man who wishes me, but heart will not receive.
Lover is that man – hard to cure,
Whose tongue, heart and eyes are pure.
One who gladdens people with a painful soul,
Is like a builder of the blasted Caaba, told.
Though Caaba is the altar of the whole earth,
But than Caaba of the heart is little worth.
You dream of eye, like Caaba is the house of the eyes,
That my eyelashes are praying lining up so nice.
Never put my friend the balm to ulcer in the heart again
Let I pass away, forever, let remain in heart her pain,
Hey Navoiy, grievous people know your poetry in sad,
Reading it the mournful people will be in good health and glad.
Navoiy, conduct yourself, men in the world should keep the right,
If it’s fixed to be hard – be hard, if it’s fixed to be light – be light.
Do people get pleasure without offense,
And how does the candle light taking not pains,
An egg stuck in soil could become as full bloom,
A worm was like silk having gone to its doom.
As the small tulip egg, have you got any zeal,
Are not you kind as the worm full in silk?
Translated by Aazam Abidov