غزل شمارهٔ 490

Not, in all the cloisters of the magians, is like me a distraught one (In) one place, the khirka (my existence is) the pledge for wine ; the book (the heart in) another place.

The heart, which is a royal mirror, hath (by worldly affairs and by the dross of sin) a great dust, (the prohibitor of divine bounty) ; From God, I seek the society of one, luminous of opinion.

By the hand of an idol, wine-selling, repentance I have made ; That again, wine I drink not without the face of a banquet-adorner.

If of the way of its (beauteous) eye, the narcissus boasted, grieve not (for, vision, it hath not) ; The man of vision goeth not in pursuit of a non-see-er.

The mystery of this subtlety, perchance, the candle will bring to its tongue ; If not, for speech, the moth hath not (even) a little solicitude.

From my eye to the skirt, I have established streams (of tears), so that, per. chance, In my bosom, they may place one, straight of stature.

The bark (-shaped) cup, bring ; for, without the Beloved's face, From the heart's grief, every corner of the eye hath become a great ocean (of tears).

To me, mistress-worshipping, speak not of aught beside ; For, beyond her and the cup of wine, for none is mine, (even) a little solicitude.

How pleasantly to me came this tale when in the morning time, said, At the door of the wine-house, with drum and reed, a Christian :

" If the being a musulman be of this sort that Hafiz is, "Alas, if, after to-day, be a to-morrow."