غزل شمارهٔ 356

If, from my hand, there arise (the chance) that with my heart-possessor I may sit, From the cup of fortune (of His face), I drink wine ; and, from the garden of union (with Him), pluck the rose (of profit).

Not my foundation (of life), will the bitter (strong) wine (real love) sufi-consuming take ; Saki (perfect murshid) ! on my lip, thy lip, place ; and my sweet life, take.

(In this vain desire) perchance, distraught I shall become. For, from love of thee, night to day, To the moon, (like one distraught) I utter speech ; in sleep, the Pari, I see.

To the intoxicated, thy (sweet) lip gave sugar ; and to the wine-drinkers, thy (intoxicated) eye, wine : Through exceeding disappointment, neither am I with that (the sugar) ; nor am I with this (the wine). (Such a one) am I !

Since every particle of dust that the wind brought was a bounty from Thy grace, Thy slave's state remember ; for an old servant am I.

Not pleasing appeared the writing of every one, who a versified picture, expressed : A rare partridge (lustrous verse), I take ; for swift is my royal falcon (the poet's high genius).

If belief thou have not, go; ask the painter of Chin (Mani) ; For, the usage (of word-painting even), the (illustrious painter) Mani desireth from the nib of my reed.

Not every one's work is fidelity and truth-speaking, The slave, I am, of the Asaf of the age, Jalalu-l-Hakk va-d-Din.

From me, not from Hafiz, hear the mysteries of love and of intoxication ; For, with the cup and the goblet, every night, the companion of the moon and of the Pleiades, am I.