O hidden from sight! to God, I entrust, thee. Thou consumedest my soul; yet with heart, friend I hold thee.
So long as I trail not the skirt of my shroud beneath the foot of the dust, Believe not, I will keep hand from off the skirt of thee.
Display the prayer-arch of thy eye-brow, that, in the morning-time, I may bring forth my hand of prayer and bring it upon the neck of thee.
If it be necessary for me to go to Harut of Babil, A hundred kinds of sorcery I will evoke to bring thee.
O faithless physician! I wish to die before thee. Ask the sick; for I am in expectation of thee.
I weep; and, from this tear, torrent raining, my hope Is that love’s seed, I may plant in the heart of thee.
Hafez! wine, and the mistress, and profligacy are not thy way of life: Wholly thou doest; and I pardon thee.
زمین
