غزل شمارهٔ 37

No friend in the world entire thou wilt find sincere in solicitude go, lose thyself in thy self, and mind the honour of loverhood.

I am grieved, that He Who created us in rapture to be displayed hath concealed the infinite various manners of that His trade.

None but Ayaz alone doth know this subtle and secret truth, how the Ghaznavid’s love augmented so his poor slave’s anguish and ruth.

Less than a grassblade, in my view, the knowledge and vision vast that the trusty sword and the buckler true from the hand of the warrior cast.

Whatever the price of these goods, ‘tis well And profit will yield, not harm, Razi’s intelligence to sell for the power of Haider’s arm.

If there is a drop of blood in thy vein, a flutter to storm the height, come, learn with me the way to attain the falcon’s ascending flight.

If fluting thou thinkst is but taking breath, how little truth thou hast guessed; the minstrel his skill accomplisheth with the point of the sword in his breast!