غزل شمارهٔ 314

Last night, me, from power took (and ruined) the (languishing) sickness of Thy eye; But, from the bounty of Thy lip, the form of (new) life, I established.

Not of to-day, is my love for Thy musky tress ; Long time 'tis, since that with this cup, like the new moon, intoxicated I was.

From my own constancy, happily came this subtlety: " With violence, " At the head of Thy street, (down) from the foot of search, I sate not."

From me, wine-house-sitter, ease expect not : For, since I was of the service of profligates, boasted have I.

In love's path, from that quarter of effacement, are a hundred dangers : Take care thou sayest not that, when to an end (in effacement), hath come my life, (from these calamities) I have escaped (Nay ; before the heart, after death, are a hundred thoughts of danger).

After this, of the arrow of torment of the envious, mine what care, When, to my Beloved of bow-eyebrow, joined I am ?

Lawful to me, is the kiss on the casket of Thy cornelian (lip); For, despite Thy tyranny and oppression, love and fidelity, I shattered not.

My heart, a warrior-idol plundered and departed : Pity, if the grace of the king (the murshid) take not my hand (and justice give me).

To the (lofty) sky, had ascended the grandeur of Hafiz's knowledge : Me, grieving for Thy lofty box-tree (the true Beloved's stature) made low.