Into the Magian’s cloister, came my Friend a goblet in His hand: With wine intoxicated, He with his eye intoxicated the wine-dirnkers.
In His steed’s hoof, appeared the form of the new moon From His lofty stature, low, the stature of the lofty cypress.
Well, wherefore, shall I say: “Existence” when no knowledge of myself is mine? Wherefore shall I say: “Non-existence” when my expectation is with Him?
When He arose, the candle of the heart of friends went out: When He sate down, the spectators’ clamour arose.
If noisome civet became fragrant, it was associated with His tress: If indigo became a bowman, it was associated with His eye-brow.
Come back that Hafez’s spent life may come back: Although the arrow that hath sped from the aim cometh not back.
