غزل شمارهٔ 41

Though wine is joy exciting! and the breeze rose-enslaving, Drink not wine to the sound of the harp. For bold the Muhtaseb is.

If to thy grasp fall a flagon and a Companion, Drink with reason; for the season, fraught with calamity is.

Conceal the cup in the sleeve of the tattered garment; For, like the wine-flagon’s eye, time is blood-shedding.

With the color of wine, we cleanse the religious garments with tears: For, the season of austerity, and the time of piety it is.

From the revolution of the inverted sphere, seek no sweet pleasure. For all mixed with dregs the pure of this head of the wine jar is.

The up-lifted sky! Is it not the sieve blood-splattering, Whose scattering, the head of Kasra and the crown of Parviz is?

O Hafez! thou hast captivated Iraq and Persia. Come. For the turn of Baghdad, and the time of Tabriz is.