غزل شمارهٔ 390

Displayed from the garden border hath become the diadem of the Sultan, the rose (the true Beloved) : O Lord ! to the cypress and the jessamine (disciples and lovers of the Path), its arrival happy be !

In his own (proper) place, happy was this imperial sitting (the Sultan, rose) Since now in his own (proper) place, every one sitteth.

To Sulaiman's seal-ring, news of the happy conclusion give, Whereby, short the hand (of power) of ahriman (the enemy), the ism-i-a'zam made.

Be prosperous to eternity without end, this house (the world), from the door of which, Every moment, with the perfume of mercy, the breeze of felicity (the words of the perfect murshid) bloweth !

The majesty of Pashang's son, Afrasiyab, (king of Turan) and his world-seizing sword, In all king-chronicles, the tale of the assembly is.

Obedient to thee, became beneath the saddle, the chaugan-steed of the sphere, O royal horseman ! since to the field (of sport) thou hast come, the ball strike.

The stream of the country is the water (lustre) of thy sword : The tree of justice, plant thou: the root of ill-wishers, tip-pluck.

After this if, despite the perfume of thy sweet nature, it (Iran) blossometh not, From Iran's plain, the musk-pod of the musk of Khutan (the well-being and welfare of Iran) ariseth (and departeth).

Expectation of sweet splendour, the corner-takers (recluses) make, Aslant (in pride) place the cap ; and, from thy face, the veil up-pluck.

(In love-playing) with (my own) reason, I consulted. He said : " Hafiz ! drink wine ! " O Saki ! according to the word of the trusty adviser (reason), wine give.

O breeze! to the Saki of the banquet of Atabak (the praised one), prefer the request, That, from that cup, gold scattering, me, a draught he may give.