غزل شمارهٔ 2458

Do not fling stones at the factory of glassmaking, do not strike anew the wounded heart of the broken-hearted.

Strike all at my heart, for it is a pity and stupidity for your blows and stones to strike another’s breast and soul.

Free all the captives of cruelty save me, that on your servant you may look with cruelty.

I am happy whether you are faithful or cruel; may I never journey without you, either in fidelity or cruelty.

If your image has not entered the eye of a particular man, the eye of a slain ibex is dark and gazes wildly.

Before the world’s prison I was with you wholly; would that I had never passed by this place of snares.

How often I have said, “I am happy. I will not go on a journey”; see this hard journey, the road from the heights to the earth.

Your grace deluded me, saying “Go, do not be afraid: my generosity shall be your escort, there shall be no danger to you.

“When you go into strange lands, you will have time to become mature; then you will return to your homeland with learning and accomplishment.”

I said, “O soul of mine, what information shall I gain without you? Who goes from you for the sake of information? Only the uninformed.

“When I quaff wine from your hand, I am unaware and drunk and happy, without danger and fear of anyone, untroubled by any man.”

He spoke words in my ear like the words of highwaymen; the king rolled me off my head, he bewitched me.

The story is long indeed—alas for the cunning and deceit, if this night his generosity does not show us any dawn.