غزل شمارهٔ 4

O breeze! with softness speak to the beautiful fawn, Saying: Thou hast given to us desire for the mountain and the desert.

The sugar-seller, whose life be long! why Maketh he no inquiry of the welfare of the parrot sugar of devouring?

O rose! perhaps the pride of beauty hath not given thee permission, That thou makest no inquiry as to the state of the distraught nightingale.

By beauty of disposition, people of vision one can captivate: Not by snare and net, take they the wise bird.

I know not why the color of constancy, they have not Those straight of stature, dark of eye, moon of face.

When thou sittest with the beloved; and drinkest wine, Bring to mind the beloved ones, wind-measuring.

Of defect in thy beauty, one cannot speak save to this degree That the way of love and of constancy belongeth not to the lovely face.

On the sky, what if, of Hafez’s utterances Zuhra’s singing should bring to dancing the Masiha.