غزل شمارهٔ 48

Leave no quarter to resist to this restless heart of mine give Thy curls another twist, let Thy tresses intertwine.

In my heart Thy lightning shone radiant as flashing gold, which the expectant sun and moon marveled sorely to behold.

Holy joy to dwell with thee fashioned world idolatry; love with his deceitful art ever cheats the hopeful heart.

Come the meadow-bird again to the green and meadowed plain that with mind devoid of care I may tune a sweet, new air.

A high soul Thou gavest me; loose my bonds, and set me free? Kingly raiment I would spurn if Thy sackcloth I may earn.

If the axe (as legend says) cleave the rock, shall that amaze love upon his shoulder bears such a mountain-range of cares!