غزل شمارهٔ 275

Sufi ! a beautiful rose pluck ; and to the thorn the patched religious garment, give For pleasant tasting wine, this thy dry austerity, give

In the path of the harp's melody, put aside idle talk and fraud For wine and wine-drinking, the rosary and the darvish -mantle give.

Excessive austerity that the lovely one and the zahid purchase not, In the sward's ring (time), to spring's fragrant breeze, give.

O chief of lovers ! my path, ruby wine attacked : In the pit of the beloved's chin, my blood give.

O Lord ! in the rose-season, pardon the slave's sin : To the cypress of the bank of the stream, this tale give.

O thou that hast travelled to the drinking place of thy desire ! From this sea (of desire), me dusty, a drop give.

In thanks that the form of idols thy eye beheld not, To us, by the pardon and the favour of the Lord, work give.

Saki ! when the khwaja drinketh the wine of the morning cup, Tell (him) "To Hafiz, night alive keeping, the cup of gold.