Last night, to the wine-house, Zahed, sitting in khalwat, went: From the head of his covenant, he departed; and to the head of the cup, went.
Yesterday, the distraught Sufi who broke the cup and the goblet: Yester-night, by one draught of wine, wise and learned became.
To him, in dream, the mistress of youth’s time had come: With elderly head, lover and distraught he became.
A young Magian, the highwayman of truth and of heart, passed: In pursuit of that Friend, a stranger to all else, he became.
The fire of the cheek of the rose consumed the nightingale’s harvest: The moth’s calamity, the laughing face of the candle, became.
Evening and morning, our weeping-thanks that it was not lost: A peerless jewel, a drop of our raining became.
The narcissus of the Saki uttered a spell of sorcery: The assembly of sorcery, the circle of our religious readings became.
Now the stage of Hafez is the banquet-place of Kings. To the Heart-possessor, his heart went; to the Beloved, his soul went.
