غزل شمارهٔ 11

Saki! with the light of wine, up-kindle the cup of ours. Minstrel! speak, saying: “The world’s work hath gone to the desire of ours.”

In the cup, we have beheld the reflection of the face of the Beloved O thou void of knowledge of the joy of the perpetual wine-drinking of ours.

Never dieth that one, whose heart is alive with love: On the world’s record, is written the everlasting existence of ours.

The coy glance and the grace of those straight of stature till With grace, moving like a lofty pine-tree, cometh the cypress of ours.

O breeze! if thou pass by the rose-bed of beloved ones, Take care! present to the beloved the message of ours.

From thy memory, our name why purposely takest thou? Itself cometh, when cometh no recollection of ours.

To the eye of our heart-binding beloved pleasing is intoxication For that reason, to intoxication they have given the rein of ours.

On the day of up-rising, I fear, a profit taketh not. The lawful bread of the Shaikh, more than the unlawful water of ours.

Hafez! from thy eye, keep shedding a tear-drop; It may be, that the bird of union may attempt the snare of ours.

The green sea of sky, and the bark of the new moon, Are immersed in the favor of Haji Kivam of ours.