غزل شمارهٔ 163

Without the beloved’s face, the rose is not pleasant. Without wine, spring is not pleasant.

The border of the sward and the air of the garden Without the tulip cheek is not pleasant.

The dancing of the cypress, and the rapture of the rose, Without the one thousand songs is not pleasant.

With the beloved, sugar of lip, rose of body, Without kiss and embrace is not pleasant.

Every picture that reason’s hand depicteth, Save the picture of the idol is not pleasant.

Hafez! the soul is a despicable coin: For scattering, it is not pleasant.