غزل شمارهٔ 249

O breeze! from the dust of the (true) Beloved's path, a perfume bring: My heart's grief, take; glad tidings of the heart-possessor bring.

(O breeze !) from the (true) Beloved's mouth, a soul-expanding subtlety utter : From the world of mysteries, a letter of pleasant news bring.

So that by the favour of Thy gentle breeze, my perfume-place, I may perfume, A little of the odours of the Beloved's breath bring.

(O breeze, I conjure thee) by thy fidelity, the dust of the path of that dearly Beloved, Without a particle of dust that from stranger appeareth, bring.

From the Friend's thoroughfare, a little dust, for the blindness of the watcher, For the assuaging of this my blood-raining eye, bring.

Immatureness and simple-heartedness is not the way of those life-sporting (who, for the heart-ravisher, play the cash of the heart) : From that heart-ravisher, sorcerer, a little news bring.

O bird of the sward ! thanks for that that thou art in ease, To the cage-captives, glad tidings of the rose-bed bring.

Bitter became the soul's desire through the patience that I exercised without the Friend : The way of that sweet lip (of the Friend's) sugar-raining bring.

A long time it is since that my heart the face of its purpose, beheld : O Saki ! that goblet, the mirror of conduct bring.

Hafiz's ragged garment, what is it worth ? Be-colour it with wine : Then, to the head of the market, him (Hafiz), intoxicated and ruined bring.