غزل شمارهٔ 330

Like the morning (of laughing forehead) Thou art; and the candle of the chamber of the morning, I am : Smile ; and behold how (for Thee) my soul, I surrender.

In my heart, the stain of love for Thy heart-alluring tress is so (in dwelling) that, When (from this vanishing world) I pass, my tomb becometh the (dark) violet bed.

On the threshold of hope of Thee, I have opened my eye, That Thou mayest cast one glance ; from Thy glance, me Thou Thyself castedest.

O crowd of griefs ! to thee, how may I utter thanks ? God forgive thee ! On the day of friendlessness, at last, from my bosom thou goest not.

I am the slave of the man of vision, who, notwithstanding his black-hearted-ness, Raineth a thousand drops (tears), when my heart's pain, I recount.

On every side, our idol (divine bounty) displayeth splendour ; but, This glance that I keep glancing, none seeth.

If the Beloved like the (fragrant) breeze pass to the tomb of Hafiz From desire (of that Beloved), in the heart of that narrow place (the grave), the shroud, I rend.