S. R. Faruqi:

(1) The rose in the garden seems to have borrowed something of your style.
It seems the scent of pride has touched the rose's mind.

(2) Instead of oil, love pours
the bulbul's blood into the lamp of the rose.

(3) Morning breeze, my heart can find no solace from its scar, though
It has all the radiant glory of the rose.

[On account of its redness, the scar is often seen as a lamp, or a rose.]

(4) Don't imagine life in this garden to be full of pleasure.
The rose's cup is empty of wine actually.

(5) Come quickly, Mir, and enjoy the sights of this garden.
The autumn is right behind in pursuit of the rose.

 

FWP:

(inspired by SRF's translation)

(1) The style of the rose in the garden is a bit like yours.
The scent has gone somewhat to the head of the rose.

(2) in place of oil, passion pours
the Nightingale's blood, into the lamp of the rose.

(3)  There's no heart-comfort, oh breeze-- otherwise,
the wound has all the glories of the rose.

(4) Don't count on the luxuries of this garden.
There is no wine in the cup of the rose.

(5) Take a hurried stroll through this garden, Mir.
Autumn too is hot on the heels of the rose.

 

Zahra Sabri:

Zahra Sabri is a special guest translator for this site.

(1) The rose in the garden behaves somewhat like you
The fragrance has gone to the head of the rose a little

(2) Passion puts, in place of oil
The nightingale’s blood into the rose’s lamp

(3) My heart is not consoled; otherwise, oh breeze
The wound has all the splendours of the rose

(4) Don’t be fooled by the pleasures of this garden
There is no wine in the cup of the rose

(5) Make haste to enjoy the sights of this garden, “Mir”
The autumn, too, is looking for the rose