غزل شمارهٔ 277

The thought of the bulbul (the holy traveller) all is that, that the rose (the true Beloved), his beloved may be : The rose, in thought how, in her work, grace she may display.

Not all heart-ravishingness is that that slayeth the lover : Khwaja is he, whose attendant is grief.

That is a place where into the ruby's heart the wave dasheth blood, With this loss that its (the ruby's) market-value, the sherd shattereth.

From the bounty of the rose (the true Beloved), the bulbul (the holy traveller) learned speech ; and if not, there had not been In his beak, all this (sweet) speech and song.

O thou that passest in the street of our Beloved, Full of caution, be ; for the head, his wall shattereth.

That travelled one (the Beloved), whose fellow-traveller is a hundred Kafilas of the heart, O God ! wherever he be, him, in safety (from the peril of travel), keep.

O heart ! although health's company happily falleth to thee, Precious, is love's quarter: it, abandon not.

Merry of head (intoxicated), the Sufi placed his cap aslant, With two cups (of wine) more, disordered may be his turban.

The heart of Hafiz that had become accustomed to the sight of Thee Is cherished with union. Its (the heart's) torment, seek not.