غزل شمارهٔ 248

O breeze from such a one's street, me, a perfume bring. Weeping and sad of grief, I am ; me, ease of soul, bring:

For our profitless heart, strike out the elixir of purpose : That is : From the dust of the Beloved's door (which is indeed an elixir), me, a trace bring.

With my own heart, in the ambush-place of vision, is war : To me, an arrow and a bow fashioned from His (curved) eye-brow and (shooting) glance bring.

In wandering, and in separation, and in grief of heart (I have spent my life ; and now) I am become old : (So that from the present, freedom, I may obtain ; and, for the past, compensation), me, a cup of wine from the hand of a youthful one, bring.

Two, or three, cups of this wine, cause the deniers to taste : And, if they take (them) not, running (with speed) to me, bring.

Saki ! the ease of to-day, to to-morrow, cast not, Or, from Fate's book, me, the line of safety (that, till to-morrow, I shall live), bring.

Last night, forth from the screen went my heart, when Hafiz said : "O breeze ! from such a one's street, me, a perfume, bring."