غزل شمارهٔ 164

Musk-diffusing, the breath of the morning breeze shall be: Again the world old young shall be.

To the lily, the Arghavan shall give the cornelian cup: Glancing at the anemones, the eye of the narcissus shall be.

This tyranny that, from the grief of separation, the nightingale endured In the rose’s pavilion, clamour-making, shall be.

If from the Masjed to the tavern I go, carp not: Long is the assembly of admonition; and the time shall be.

O heart! if to to-morrow thou cast the joy of to-day, Surety for the capital of cash of permanency, who shall be?

In the month Shaban, put not the goblet from thy hand. For this sun, Till the night of the ‘Id of Ramazan out of sight, shall be.

Precious is the rose; its society reckon plunder. For in this way to the garden it came; and, in that way shall go.

O minstrel! the assembly of associate friends, it is: sing the ghazal and the ode: How long sayest thou: “Passed like this; and like that shall be.”

To the clime of existence, came Hafez for thy sake: Plant thy foot for farewell to him; for passing he shall be.