غزل شمارهٔ 59

Leave him who never won to sight, and bears report alone; who makes long speech, but the delight of vision gives to none.

To bard and scholar listened I, philosopher to boot; although their palm is proud and high, it yields nor leaf nor fruit.

The gleam that hoary acolyte so prides himself upon reveals a thousand shades of night, but never glow of dawn.

I have a charge ’gainst God to lay that still I keep concealed; he takes my precious heart away, and Joseph does not yield.

Neither in idol-house nor shrine that saki I can find to grant, no ember’s fitful shine, but splendour unconfined.