غزل شمارهٔ 46

The rose is in the bosom; wine in the hand; and the Beloved to my desire, On such a day, the world’s Sultan is my slave.

Say: Into this assembly, bring ye no candle for to-night. In our assembly, the moon of the Friend’s face is full.

In our order, the wine-cup is lawful; but, O Cypress, rose of body! without thy face, unlawful.

My ear is all on the voice of the reed; and, the melody of the harp: My eye is all on Thy ruby lip, and on the circulation of the cup.

In our assembly, mix not Perfume; for our soul, Every moment, receiveth perfume from the fragrance of the tip of Thy tress.

Say ye naught of the sweetness of candy and sugar; For my desire is for Thy sweet lip.

From the time when the treasure of grief for Thee was dweller in my ruined heart, The corner of the tavern is ever my abode.

Of shame, why speakest thou? For from shame is my name: Of name, why askest thou? For from name is my shame.

Wine-drinker, distraught of head, profligate, and glance-player I am: In this city, who is that one who is not like this?

To the Muhtaseb, utter not my crime; for he also Is ever like me in desire of the drinkers of wine.

Hafez! sit not a moment without wine, and the Beloved ‘Tis the season of the rose, and of the Jasmine, and of the celebration of fasting!