غزل شمارهٔ 259

Who, for the sight of the (true) Beloved, opened my eye, that one am I : O work-door, slave -cherisher ! what thanks to Thee, shall I utter ?

To the indigent man of calamity, say: " From dust, wash not thy face :" For the dust of the street of indigency is the alchemy of thy desire.

O heart! from the difficulties of the path, turn not the rein : For, of descent and of ascent, reflecteth not the man of the Path.

If with the blood of the liver, purification (in love) the lover (of God) make not, By the word of the mufti of love, not true is his prayer.

In this illusory stage, save the cup (of love for God) take naught : In this house (the world), save love, a pastime play not.

With a half kiss purchase a prayer from one of heart (one of vision ; a lover of God), That, from the enemy's malice, thee, soul and body may preserve.

Love's murmur, into Hijaz and 'Irak, casteth The melody of the strain of the ghazals of Hafiz of Shiraz.