غزل شمارهٔ 240

Come up hath the cloud azar ; and blown hath the breeze of nau-ruz : The way of wine, I desire ; and the minstrel who singeth hath arrived.

In splendour (of beauty) the lovely (beloved) ones (are) ; and, ashamed of my empty purse, I am : O sky ! this shamefulness, how long shall I endure ?

'Tis the drought of liberality : it is not proper to sell my own honour : For the price of the khirka, wine and the rose it is proper to buy.

From my fortune, he will probably unfold a great work. For, last night, I prayed ; and the dawn of creation dawned.

With a lip and a hundred thousand laughs, the rose came to the garden. Thou mayst say : " The perfume of a liberal one in a corner, it perceived/'

If, in the world of profligacy, the skirt became rent, what fear ? In good name, also, the garment it is necessary to rend.

Those graceful words (of praise) that, of thy ruby lip, I spake, who spake ? And that tyranny that, from the tip of thy tress, I experienced who experienced ?

If the Sultan's justice asketh not the state of the oppressed ones of love, For those corner-sitting, it is necessary to sever love of ease.

On Hafiz's heart, I know not who cast the arrow, lover-slaying: This much I know that, from his fresh verse, blood dropped.