غزل شمارهٔ 29

With fancy for Thee, what desire for wine is ours? To the jar say: “Take thy head; for the jar-house is ruined.”

If it be the wine of Paradise, spill it. For without the Friend, Every draft of sweet water that thou givest is the very essence of torment.

Alas! The Heart-Ravisher nath departed; and in the weeping eye The picturing of the fancy of a letter from Him is the picture on water.

O eye! be vigilant. For, one cannot be safe, From this lasting torrent that occurreth in the stage of sleep.

The Beloved One openly passeth, by thee; but Keepeth seeing strangers. On that account, the Beloved is veil-bound.

Since the rose beheld the grace of sweet on thy colored cheek, In envy’s fire, through the heart’s grief, it is immersed in rose-water.

The world around is green and so green, but the world is only a mirage.

In the corner of my brain, seek no place of counsel: For this cell is full of the hum of the harp and of the ribab.

If Hafez be lover, or profligate, or glance-player, what then? In the time of youth, many a strange way is necessary.