O heart! the grief of love, again, thou sawest what it did, When the heart-ravisher went; and with the beloved, fidelity-observing, what it did.
Alas! what play, that narcissus, the sorcerer, excited: Alas! with men of sense that intoxicated, what it did.
From the mercilessness of the beloved, my tears gained the colour of twilight: In this work, behold my compassionless fortune what it did.
In the morning from Leyla’s dwelling, lightning flashed; Alas! with the harvest of Majnun, heart-rent what it did.
O Saki! give me a cup of wine. For the hidden writer None knoweth in the revolution of the compass, what He did.
That one who expressed this azure vault on the picture In the screen of mysteries, evident it is not what He did.
Into Hafez’s heart, the thought of love struck the fire of grief; and consumed it; With the lover, behold ye the ancient Friend what He did.
