غزل شمارهٔ 40

Thanks be to God that the door of the wine-tavern open, is. In such a way that, my face of supplication upon its door is.

Through intoxication, all in tumult and shout are the jars; And that wine that in that place true is, not illusory, is.

From Him, intoxication, and tumult, and pride: all is. From us, helplessness, and weakness, and supplication all is.

The mystery that to the people I uttered not, and shall not utter: To the Friend, I shall utter; for confidant of the mystery He is.

The twist of the tress, curl within curl, the explanation One cannot shorten; for long this story is.

The load of Majnun’s heart; and the curl of Laila’s tress The cheek Of Mahmud and the sole of the foot of Ayaz is.

Like the hawk, I have stitched up my eye from all the world: Since, on Thy adorned cheek, my eye open is.

Whoever entereth the Ka’ba of Thy street, ‘Through the Kibla of Thy eye-brow in the very act of prayer is.

O people of the assembly! the consuming of the heart of poor Hafez Ask ye the candle that, in burning and melting is.