غزل شمارهٔ 474

(O true Beloved !) Thy well-wisher, I am, and (this) I know that Thou knowest ; For, both the un-seen, Thou seest; and also the un-written (by fate), Thou readest.

Of the mystery of the lover and of the Beloved, what gaineth the reproacher ? The non-seeing eye especially seeth not a secret mystery.

(O true Beloved !) dishevel Thy tress ; and, to sport and to dancing, bring the Sufi (people of the world), That, from every patch of his ragged garment, thousands of idols (of hypocrisy), Thou mayst scatter.

The solving of the work of desirous ones is in that heart-binding eye-brow ; For God's sake, a moment with (towards) us unloose the knot (frown) from thy forehead.

In the adoration of Adam, the angel made resolve of thy ground-kiss, For, in Thy beauty, something he found more than the way,. human.

The lamp-kindler of our eye is the breeze of the tress of lovely ones ; Lord ! to this gathering (smooth state of the tress), be not grief for the breeze of dispersion !

Alas ! that pleasure of night-sitting up that passed (swiftly) like the morning breeze ; O heart ! the value of union, thou knowest, (only) when behind in separation thou remainest.

To be vexed with fellow way-farers, is not the action of a work-knower ; The difficulty of the stage, endure in memory of a time of ease.

Hafiz ! thee, the fancy of the yoke of His tress fascinates ; See, so that the ring of impossible fortune, thou shake not.