غزل شمارهٔ 324

Although, from His tress, a knot (of difficulty) hath fallen upon my work : Even so, from His liberality, the solution (of it) I expect.

To joy, the ruddiness of my face attribute not ? For, like the cup, Forth from my cheek, the (ruddy) reflection, the heart's blood giveth.

Me, forth from power will take the melody of the minstrel : Alas, if on that account, within this screen (of the melody) mine, access be none.

Night, all night, the guardian of my heart's fold have I been : So that, into this screen (of dark night), save thought of Him, naught I pass.

That poet-magician am I, who, with the sorcery of speech, From the reed-pen, all candy and sugar, rain.

By His tale, to sleep went fortune's eye ; Where, a breeze of favour, that, me, awake may make ?

When, in the wind's thoroughfare, Him, my Friend, I see not : To whom, may I speak saying : " A word to my Friend, utter."

Last night, he kept saying : " All (double) face and hypocrisy is Hafiz :" (Hafiz replied : )" Save with the dust of Thy door, say in work with whom, am I ? "