غزل شمارهٔ 177

Not every beloved one that up-kindleth his face the work of a heart-ravisher knoweth. Not every one who maketh the mirror, the work of a Eskandar knoweth.

Not every one who slantwise placed his cap and sat severe The work of a crown-possessor, and the usage of a Ruler knoweth.

Like the beggars, do not thou service for wages: For the way of slave-cherishing, the Friend Himself knoweth.

I am the slave of resolution of that profligate, safety-consuming, Who, in beggar quality, the work of an alchemist knoweth.

Good are fidelity and covenant, if thou wilt learn: If not, every one thou seest, the work of a tyrant knoweth.

My distraught heart, I staked; and knew not That one born of man, the way of a Pari knoweth.

Here, finer than a hair, are a thousand points: Not every one who shaveth his head the work of a Kalandar knoweth.

The center of the point of my vision is thy mole; For the value of the incomparable jewel, the jewelier knoweth.

In stature and face, every one who became the king of the lovely ones Taketh the world, if the work of a justice-dispenser, he knoweth.

Acquainted with Hafez’s heart-alluring verse, becometh that one, Who, the grace of disposition, and the utterance of Dari knoweth.