غزل شمارهٔ 162

Happy came the rose; and more happy than that aught is not. For, in thy hand, save the cup aught is not.

Gain, gain, the time of happy heartedness: For, in the shell, ever the jewel is not.

Reckon plunder; and, in the rose-garden, drink wine: For till another week, the rose is not.

O thou that hast made full of ruby thy golden cup, Give to that one, to whom gold is not.

O Sheikh! come into our wine-jar house Drink a wine that in Kousar is not.

If, our fellow student, thou remain, wash white the leaves; For, in the book, love’s art is not.

Hear me. Fix thy heart on a mistress, Whose beauty bound up with ornaments is not.

O Lord! give me a wine without mixing, Wherewith any head-pain is none.

With soul, I am the slave of the Soltan Uvays, Although of the servant, his recollection is none.

By this crown, world-adorning, that the sun Like this, an adorner of the diadem is not.

On Hafez’s soul, taketh exception that one In whose essence, any grace is none.