غزل شمارهٔ 116

That one that, in his vision, the beauty of the line of the Beloved hath; Certain it is that the acquisition of vision he hath.

Like the reed, on the writing of His order, the head of obedience, We have placed. Perchance, with His sword, uplifted He hath.

In union with Thee, like the candle found the order that one Who, beneath Thy sword, momently another head hath.

Attained to foot-kissing, the hand of that one, who Ever his head, like the threshold, on this door, hath.

I am vexed with dry austerity. Bring pure wine: For, my brain ever fresh, wine’s perfume keepeth.

If from wine, thine is no good quality, is not this enough that, thee, A moment, without news of the temptation of reason, it keepeth?

That one, who planted not his foot outside the door of piety, Now, with the intention of visiting the wine-house, desire for travel, hath.

To the dust, Hafez’s shattered heart will take The stain of desire that. like the tulip, on the liver, it hath.