غزل شمارهٔ 295

In the morning for the perfume of the rose, I kept going into the rose-garden; So that, like the bulbul heart-bereft, remedy for my brain, I might make.

At the face of a rose, red of hue, I gazed, That, in the night of darkness, shone with a luminosity like the lamp:

Of her beauty and youth, so proud, That, from the heart of the bulbul of a thousand notes, repose she kept :

In envy, the beautiful narcissus let loose water (night-dew) from her eye : In passion, the tulip planted a hundred streaks (stains) in her soul and heart:

In reproof, the lily extended her tongue like a sword ; Like the man of two women, the anemone opened her mouth.

Sometimes, like the wine-worshipper, in the hand, a goblet: Sometimes, like the Saki of the intoxicated, taken in the hand, a glass.

The joy of youthful pleasure, plunder like the rose, reckon : For, O Hafiz! to the envoy is naught save what is brought (the message).