غزل شمارهٔ 412

Mine is an eye, blood-shedding on account of the eye of that bow eyebrow ; Full of tumult will become the world on account of that eye, and of that eyebrow.

The slave of the eye I am of that saucy one (such) that, in the sweet sleep of intoxication, The adorned rose-bed is her face ; and the musky canopy, her eyebrow.

Through this grief, my body became (lean and slender like) a crescent moon. For, notwithstanding her musky (dark fragrant) writing (the decorated eyebrow) Where is the moon that, from the arch of sky will (dare) show its eyebrow ?

The watchers careless (unacquainted with my secrets) ; and, momently, from that eye and forehead, ours Are a thousand kinds of message ; and, the curtain between (them), is the eyebrow.

To the soul of the corner-sitters, the beauty of the rose-bed is (only a little) of his beauty : On the border of whose sward, a saunterer becometh the eyebrow.

Notwithstanding such beauty, again none speaketh of the Hur and the Par!, Saying: "Of this (the Hur) is like this, the eye; and of that (the Pari), like that, the eyebrow.

Thou, Kafir of heart, bindest not the veil of thy tress. I fear That my prayer-arch will turn, the curve of that heart-ravishing eyebrow.

Although, in possessing fidelity, Hafiz is the wise bird ; (yet), Him, with the arrow of the glance, prey made, the eye of that bow eyebrow.