صنف کے تحت کتاب
یہ صفحہ صرف صنفِ غزل کے تحت آنے والی نظمیں دکھاتا ہے۔
I have a bad habit; I am weary; pray excuse me. How shall my habit become seemly without your fair face, my beauty?
Each moment I catch from my bosom the scent of the Beloved; how should I not take my self every night into my bosom?
Reason is the chain of travellers and lovers, my son; break the chain, and the way is plain and clear ahead, my son.
Tonight is a night of union for the stars and of scattering, scattering, since a bride is coming from the skies, consisting of a full moon.
That beauty handed me a broom saying, “Stir up the dust from the sea!”
I went there intoxicated and said, “O beauty, when you have maddened me, give ear!”