صنف کے تحت کتاب
یہ صفحہ صرف صنفِ غزل کے تحت آنے والی نظمیں دکھاتا ہے۔
A world altogether, to pass life a single moment in grief is not worth: For wine, sell our ragged religious garment; for more than this it is not worth.
In eternity without beginning, of glory, the splendor-ray of Thy beauty boasted. Revealed became love; and, upon all the world, fire dashed.
In the morning when, his standard on the mountainous lands, the Khosro of the east pitched, With the hand of mercy, the door of hopeful ones, my beloved beat;
Play a note, at the melody whereof, a great sigh, one can cast: Utter a verse, whereby the heavy cup of wine one can cast.
If after Him, I go, He up stirreth calamity: And if I sit from search, in wrath, He ariseth.
To our friend, in beauty of disposition and of fidelity, one reacheth not In this matter, to thee, denial of our work reacheth not.
Desire of passion for Thy fresh down to whomsoever, shall be: Forth from the circle he planteth not his foot, so long as he shall be.
I and refusal of wine! What a tale this is! Doubtless, this degree of reason mine; and sufficient is.
Not all purity without alloy is the coat of the Sufi; O many a Khirka, that is worthy of the fire!
Pleasant is Khalvat, if my beloved, the Beloved shall be Not if I consume and the candle of assembly, He shall be.
How a verse exciteth afresh the heart that is sorrowful! A subtlety out of this book, we uttered; and is this very subtlety.
Happy came the rose; and more happy than that aught is not. For, in thy hand, save the cup aught is not.
Without the beloved’s face, the rose is not pleasant. Without wine, spring is not pleasant.
Musk-diffusing, the breath of the morning breeze shall be: Again the world old young shall be.
As for me, out of my head, love for those dark of eye will not go: This is the sky’s decree; and other way, it will not be.
“The day of separation from, and the night of disunion with, the Beloved is ended:” This omen, I cast; the star passed; and the work of grief is ended.
The star gleamed; and the moon of the assembly became: Of our affrighted heart, the consoler and comforter became.
That my heart’s work should be ended, my soul melted; and it became not: In this immature wish, I consumed; and it became not.
Friendship in none, I perceive. To friends what hath happened? Friendship ended when? To friends what hath happened?
Last night, to the wine-house, Zahed, sitting in khalwat, went: From the head of his covenant, he departed; and to the head of the cup, went.
Last night a messenger of news from His Highness Asaf came. From His Highness Soleiman, the order of joy came.
Love for Thee, the plant of perturbation became Union with Thee, the perfection of perturbation became.
When, in prayer, to me recollection of the curve of Thy eye-brow came. A state passed that, into lament, the prayer-arch came.
O heart! glad tidings that the morning breeze hath come back, From the quarters of Saba the lap-wing of good news hath come back.
For the congratulation of the Pir, wine-seller, the morning-breeze came Saying: “The season of joy, and of pleasure, and of freshness, and of sweet ness is came.”
In the morning, to my pillow, vigilant fortune came: Said: Arise! For that thy dear Khosro hath come.
Not every beloved one that up-kindleth his face the work of a heart-ravisher knoweth. Not every one who maketh the mirror, the work of a Eskandar knoweth.
Whoever became the confidant of his own heart, in the sacred fold of the Beloved remained: He, who knew not this matter, in ignorance remained.
Arrived the glad tidings that grief’s time shall not remain: Like that remained not; like this shall not remain.
O thou whose pistachio, laugheth at the tale of candy! I am desirous. For God’s sake, one sweet smile, smile.
Thou wrotest not the account of thy state; and, passed some time: Where a confidant so that to thee, I may send some message?
Last night I saw that the angels beat the door of the tavern, The clay of Adam, they shaped and into the mould, they cast.
Of coins, is it that they examination take So that, after their own work, all the cloister-holders take?
If lawful the need of profligates, the wine-seller maketh, His sin, God forgiveth; and, repelling of calamity maketh.
O heart! Consume. For deeds thy consuming maketh: The repelling of a hundred calamities, the midnight supplication maketh.
For profligacy and love, my censure that foolish one maketh; Who, on the mysteries of men of hidden knowledge, criticism maketh.
If again passing, the bird of fortune shall make. Again the Beloved shall come; and contentment with union shall make.
One day, when recollection of us thy musky reed maketh, It will take reward: Two hundred slaves that free, it maketh_
Who is that one, who, by way of manliness, fidelity with me will make; In respect of an ill-doer like me, once a good deed will make?
Inclination for the sward, the cypress of my sward, wberefore maketh not? The fellow-companion of the rose, becometh not? Memory of the lily maketh not?
Astonished at our glance-playing, those void of vision are: As I appeared so I am; the rest, they know.
Those of lily perfume cause grief’s dust to sit when they sit: Patience from the heart, those of Angel-face take when they strive.
The slave of thy intoxicated eye, crown-possessors are: Undone with the wine of Thy ruby lip, sensible ones are.
Those Mursheds, who, with their glance alchemy of the dust make, At us, eye-cornering, do they make?
If, in this way, heart-ravishingness, lovely ones make, In the faith of Zaheds, breaches, they will make.
I said: “Me, prosperous, Thy mouth and lip, when do they make?” He said: “By my eye whatever thou sayest even so do they make.”
The admonishers who, in the prayer-arch and the pulpit, grandeur make, When into their chamber they go, that work of another kind they make.
Thou knowest what tale that the harp and the lyre make? Secretly drink ye wine that thee precious they may make.
