غزل شمارهٔ 467

(O Saki!) of that (pure) wine of love (for God) whereby matured becometh every immature one, Although it is the month of Ramazan (so that I may escape-from this immatureness and to matureness, attain) bring a great cup.

Passed days, since the hand of me miserable clasped not, The leg of one box-tree of stature ; the arm of one silver of limb.

O heart! though the fast (of Ramazan) be the dear guest, Regard its society a gift; its going a favour.

Now (in the Ramazan), to the cloister-door fleeth not the wise bird, For, at every assembly of exhortation, is placed a snare.

No complaint, do I make of the zahids, ill of nature. The way is this : That, when a (bright) morning dawneth, in its pursuit falleth a (dark) evening.

When, to the spectacle of the sward, my Friend moveth, O footman of the breeze ! from me to him, convey a message.

A companion, who night and day drinketh pure wine, where? Is it that he maketh recollection of a dreg-drinker?

O Hafiz ! if the justice of the heart, thee the Asaf of the age give not, With difficulty, thou bringest to hand thy desire through a great selfishness.