When my heart went to the orchards , you deprived me of myself, the smell of flowers and basil, if you shouted nightingale, when you tore the clothes, I remembered you, I remembered you, I forgot them, O your love in the hearts, your love on your lips, your passion in your heads, your head in your souls until the thorn in the sorrow of your love, hung in the skirt of short-sightedness, going to the gardens is said: "Dont say Saadi! I say a few words about his love" and after me they say to the ages
