غزل شمارهٔ 445

(O Beloved!) Thou whose purpose in the world whatever it be, Thou hast; Of the state of the feeble and of the powerless, what grief (is it that) Thou hast ?

From (Thy) slave, life and heart, demand ; the soul, take ; For over the free, the current order Thou hast.

No waist, hast Thou ; and momently I wonder how, In the midst of the assembly of lovely ones, thou displayest exaltation.

Fit, is no picture for the whiteness of Thy face ; because, From the musky (dark) line (of down), blackness, upon the ruddy arghavan (the ruddy cheek), Thou hast.

O graceful one ! ever drink wine, for light of soul thou art ; Especially, at this moment, when the heavy head (through wine) thou hast.

More than this, against my heart, make neither reproach, nor violence ; Do whatever thou canst, when room (occasion) for it,- thou hast.

If, in thy power, be a hundred thousand arrows of violence, (Them) with the intention of (taking) the life of me, shattered, thou hast.

The tyranny of the watchers, ever endure; happy of heart, be; For 'tis easy, if the kind Beloved thou hast.

If, one moment, to thy hand, union with the Friend reacheth, Go ; (do thy work) . For, whatever desire is in the world, thou hast.

Hafiz! when, in the border of this garden, thou takest the rose, Of the weeping and the lamenting of the gardener, what grief hast thou ?