غزل شمارهٔ 128

In this city is no idol that, our heart, taketh: If fortune be my friend, hence my chattels, it taketh.

Where is a companion, disdainful and intoxicated, before whose generosity, The mention of his desire, the heart-consumed lover taketh?

O gardener! careless of the autumn, I behold thee: Alas! that day when thy beautiful rose the wind of death taketh.

Time’s highwayman hath not slept. Of him, be not secure, If thee, he hath not taken today. For, to-morrow, thee he taketh.

In fancy, I play all this idol in this desire, Possibly, the mention of the spectacle a master of vision taketh.

The science and the eloquence that, in forty years, my heart acquired; I fear that, as plunder, that intoxicated narcissus taketh.

With miracle, sorcery maketh not equality. Safe be: Who is Sameri that, from the white hand superiority he taketh.

The obstacle of the heart-straitened one’s path is the crystal-glass of wine: From thy hand, put it not, lest from thy place, thee griefs torrent take.

Although Love’s path is the ambush-place of bowmen, Knowing, whoever goeth, profit from enemies taketh.

Hafez! if the beloved’s intoxicated eye seek thy life, Clear out the house of life; and let it go, so that it may take.