غزل شمارهٔ 2

The rectitude of work, where? and, I ruined where? Behold the distance of the Path, from where to where?

My heart wearied of the cloister, and of the patched garment of hypocrisy: The Magians’ cloister; where? the pure wine where?

With profligacy, what connections have rectitude and piety? The hearing of the exhortation where? The melody of the stringed instrument where?

From the Friend’s face, what gaineth the dark heart of enemies? The dead lamp, where? The candle of the resplendent sun, where?

The dust of Thy threshold is like the kuhl of our vision: Where go we? Order. Hence, where?

Look not at the apple of the chin; for in the path is a pit: O heart! where goest thou? With this haste, where?

He is gone! To him, be the time of union a pleasant memory. Gone is that glance, where? and that reproof, where?

O friend! from Hafez seek neither ease nor patience: Ease, what? Patience, what? Sleep, where?