غزل شمارهٔ 431

His lip, I kiss ; and down drink its wine ; To the water of life I have taken my foot.

Neither His mystery can I utter to any Nor any one can I see (in comparison) with Him.

The cup keepeth kissing his (ruby) lip and drinking blood ; The (red) rose keepeth seeing his- (ruddy) face, and maketh sweat.

(O Saki!) the cup of wine, give ; and recollection of Jamshid, make not : Who knoweth when Jams-hid was ? or when Kay?

O moon-minstrel ! on the harp, thy hand extend ; Its veins (cords), touch, so that with them I may exult.

From retirement to the garden, the rose brought its throne ; (O Zahid!) like the (folded) rose-bud, the carpet of austerity, make folded,

Like his (intoxicated) eye, let not the intoxicated be intoxicated : Saki ! to the memory of his ruby (lip), give wine.

Separation, the soul seeketh not from that body, In whose veins and body, the blood of the cup is.

Hafiz ! thy tongue indraw a while ; The tongue (language) of the tongueless, hear from the (tongueless) reed (pipe).