From the wine’s sparkle, the Sufi knew the hidden mystery: Every one’s essence, by this ruby thou canst know.
Only the bird of the morning knoweth the value of the rose bud: For, not every one that read a page, the meaning knew.
To my work-stricken heart, I offered two worlds. Save love for Thee, the rest all effacement, it knew.
Passed hath that time, when I thought of the people. Now since Of this my secret pleasure, the Muhtaseb knew.
The Heart-Ravisher regarded not our ease, time’s business: If not, on our part, the heart-expectation, He knew.
The stone and the clay, the ruby and the cornelian, maketh with auspicious glance Whoever the value of the breath of the breeze of Yaman knew.
O thou that learnest Love’s verse from Reason’s book! I fear this subtlety by investigation, thou wilt not know.
Bring wine! for of the rose of the world’s garden, boasteth not. He who, the robbery of the autumn-wind, knew.
This versified jewel of verse that, from his mind, he evoked, Hafez The effect of the instruction of Asaf the second, knew.
