غزل شمارهٔ 111

When, into the mirror of the cup, the reflection of Thy face fell, From the laughter of wine, into the crude desire of the cup, the Aref fell.

With that splendor that in the mirror, the beauty of Thy face made, All this picture into the mirror of fancy fell.

All this reflection of wine and varied picture that have appeared Is a splendor of the face of the Said that, into cup fell.

The jealousy of love severed the tongue of all the great ones: Into the mouth of the common people, the mystery of grief for Him, how fell?

From the masjed to the tavern, I fell not of myself: From the covenant of eternity without beginning, to me this result of the end fell.

When, like the compass, for the sake of revolution, he moveth not, what may he do Who in the circle of time’s revolution fell?

From the pit of Thy chin, in the curl of Thy tress, my heart clung: Alas. forth from the pit, it came; and into the snare, fell.

O Khwajeh! passed hath that time when thou sawest me in the cloister; With the lace of the Said and the lip of the cup, my work fell.

Beneath the sword of grief for Him, it is proper to go dancing For, that one who was slain of Him, his end happy fell.

Every moment, another kindness to me of consumed heart is His: Behold, how fit for reward, this beggar fell.

The Sufis, all, are lovers and glance-players; but, From the midst, to bad name, heart-consumed Hafez fell.