غزل شمارهٔ 291

In this city, my fortune, I have tried : From this whirlpool, my chattels 'tis necessary to draw.

Since (many a time) I gnaw the hand (of regret) and heave the sigh (from my chest), To my body, piecemeal torn, like the rose (leaf -shedding), I set fire.

Last night from a bulbul that sang, how sweetly it came (to me in a place where), From the branch of its (rose-) tree, the rose made wide its ear,

Saying : " O heart ! joyful be thou. For that beloved, ill of nature, " Long sitteth refractorily on account of his (ill) fortune.

"The world, cruel (in words) and slow (in covenant-keeping), to pass by thee thou wishest : " Thy own slow covenant and cruel words abandon.

O Hafiz ! if union had been attainable, ever, Far (severed) from bis throne, Jamshld would not have remained.