غزل شمارهٔ 67

O Lord! that candle, night-illuminating, from the house of whom is? Our soul hath consumed. Ask ye, saying: “She, the beloved, of whom is?”

Now, the up-setter of my heart and of my religion, she is: Let us see: she the fellow-sleeper of whom is; the fellow-lodger of whom is:

The ruby-wine of her lip, from my lip, far be it not! The wine of the soul of whom is? The cup-giver of the cup of whom is?

The Fortune of the society of that candle of happy ray, ‘ Again, for God’s sake, ask ye saying: “For the moth of whom is?”

For her, every one deviseth a great spell. Yet known it is not, Her tender heart, inclined to the tale of whom is?

O Lord! that one, king-like, moon of face, Venus of forehead, The inestimable pearl of whom; and, the incomparable jewel of whom is?

I said “Without thee, sigh from the distraught heart of Hafez:” Under the lip, laughing, she spake, saying: He distraught of whom is?”