غزل شمارهٔ 182

Thou wrotest not the account of thy state; and, passed some time: Where a confidant so that to thee, I may send some message?

To this lofty desire, we cannot attain Unless your favor advanceth some paces.

Since from the jar, wine hath gone into the flagon; and the rose hath cast its veil, Preserve the opportunity of ease; and drink some cups.

Candy mixed with the rose, is not the remedy for our sick heart: Some kisses mix with some abuse.

O Zahed! Pass from the circle of profligates to safety: Lest ruined make thee, the society of some ill of fame.

The defect of wine, all thou toldest; its profit also tell: Negation of skill, make not for the sake of the heart of some people.

O beggars of the tavern! God is your Friend, Have no eye of favor from some animals.

To his dreg-drinker, how well spake the Pir of the wine-house, Saying: “Utter not the state of the consumed heart to some immature ones.”

From desire of thy face, love-kindling Hafez consumed: O one whose desire is fulfilled! Cast a glance towards one some desire unfulfilled.