غزل شمارهٔ 344

Tis a life-time since, in search (of good fame), everyday, a pace I cast: Every moment, the hand of entreaty on good fame I cast.

Without my moon (the Beloved), love-kindling, let me see how my day I pass: On a path, a net I lay ; a fowl in the snare, I cast.

Aurang (the lover), where? Gulchihra (the beloved), where? The picture of fidelity and of love, where ? Now, in being a lover, complete justice I cast.

Since it may be that, of that shade of the straight cypress (the Beloved), news I may gain, From every side, love's clamour in respect of a pleasant strutter (possessed of beauty) I cast.

Although I know that that heart's ease giveth not the heart's desire, An ideal picture, I draw ; an omen of immortality, I cast.

I know grief to an end, it bringeth ; colour to wine, it bringeth, This sigh, blood-shedding, that every morning and evening, I cast.

Notwithstanding that, hidden from myself (selfless) I am; and of wine repenting like Hafiz I am, In the assembly of souls, sometimes a cup I cast.