غزل شمارهٔ 347
Toggle stanza 1صَنَما با غمِ عشقِ تو چه تدبیر کنم؟
O idol! with grief of love for thee what plaint, shall I make? In grief for thee, till when the night-seizing wail shall I make ?
Passed (to the true Beloved), my distraught heart on that account that a remedy it might accept : Perchance, with Thy tress-tip, its chain I may make.
In the time of separation from Thee, what I endured alas ! 'Tis impossible that, in one letter, writing thereof I should make,
With (on account of) Thy own tress-tip (is) all my perturbation ; Where the power that, all at once, all the narrative, I should make ?
That time when the desire of beholding the beloved is mine, In the vision, the picturing of Thy lovely face, imagining I make.
If I know that, in this way, union with Thee, aid, Heart and faith, all I will play away (and lose); and (yet) increase (thereof) I will make.
O admonisher! far from me go ; foolishness, utter not : Not that one am I who, again, the ear (of attention) to thy hypocrisy will put.
O Hafiz! hope of freedom from iniquity is none: Since fate is like this, what plan (is it that) I should make ?
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