غزل شمارهٔ 173

When, in prayer, to me recollection of the curve of Thy eye-brow came. A state passed that, into lament, the prayer-arch came.

Now from me expect neither patience nor the heart of sense; For that patience, that thou sawest, to the wind all came.

Clear, became the wine; and intoxicated, became the birds of the sward: The season of being a lover; and to foundation, the work came.

From the world’s quarters, I perceive welfare’s perfume: Gladness, the rose brought; and joyous the morning breeze came.

O bride of skill! Complain not of fortune: Adorn the chamber of beauty. For the bridegroom, skill understanding, is-came.

The flowery heart-allurers all put on Jewels: Our heart-ravisher, who is with beauty God-given, came.

Beneath their load, are the trees, that have attachment: O happy the cypress, who tree from grief’s bond, came.

Minstrel! Of Hafez’s utterance, utter a sweet ghazal. So that I may speak, saying “Recollection of Time s Joy mine became.”