غزل شمارهٔ 317

Openly, I speak; and of my own utterance, heart-happy am I : Love's slave, I am ; and of both worlds, free am I.

The bird of the holy rose-bed (paradise), am I. Explanation of separation (from paradise), what shall I give, (And) into this disaster's snare-place, how I fell?

The angel, I was ; and loftiest paradise was my abode : Into this ruined cloister (this world), me, Adam brought,

The shade of the Tuba tree, and the heart-seekingness of the Hur, and the marge of the pool (Kausar), (All), in desire of the head of Thy street, passed from my mind.

On my heart's tablet is naught save the (straight) alif of the Friend's stature : What may I do? Me, recollection of other letter the teacher (the murshid) gave not.

Recognised the star of my fortune, astrologer none ; O Lord ! of mother-earth, beneath what natal star, born was I !

Since, in love's wine-house, beringed (enslaved), I became, Momently, cometh anew a great grief (saying : ) " Welcome."

The little man (pupil) of my eye drinketh the heart's blood (in grief). Tis fit ; For, to the liver lobe (the darling) of man, why gave I my heart ?

With the tress-tip, pure of tear, make the face of Hafiz : If not, my foundation, this torrent momently flowing will take.