غزل شمارهٔ 306

If, to Thy street, the power of arriving be mine, By the fortune of union with Thee, to foundation arriveth my work.

From me, took rest, those two beauteous hyacinth tresses : From me, took tranquillity, those two narcissi (eyes) tricked with kuhl.

When, at Thy door, without resource, without gold or force, I Have, in no way, the path of egress or of ingress.

I go where ? I do what ? I am how ? Remedy, I make what ? For, from grief of time's violence, sorely vexed I am become.

Battered with ill-fortune, life, I obtain At that moment when, with the sword of grief for Thee, slain I become.

Worse than my heart, grief for Thee found no place, When, in my straitened heart, it made its place of alighting.

Since from the jewel of Thy love, a great polish hath my heart, Verily, from the rust of vicissitude, polished it was.

O soul and heart (the true Beloved) ! in Thy presence, what sin have committed, That, accepted, becometh not the devotion of me, heart-bereft ?

Hafiz ! with love's pain, be content ; and be silent : Love's mysteries, reveal not before people of reason.