غزل شمارهٔ 217

O Muslims (kind of heart) ! once a heart, mine was. Whereto I used to utter (revelations) if a difficulty was.

When, through the eye, I fell into a whirlpool (of calamity) By its deliberation, the hope of a shore (of safety) was.

A heart, fellow-sufferer, helper, counsel-perceiver That, of every one of heart, the seeker (to aid) was.

In the (true) Beloved's street, it (the heart) was lost to me, O Lord! what a skirt-seizing place, it (the true Beloved's street) was.

Without the drawback of this appointment, is no skill. But, More disappointed than I, a beggar when was?

In this confused intoxication, exercise ye pity (O Muslims !) For once a skilful work-knower, it (my heart) was.

As long as love taught me speech (lustrous verse), The subtle-point of every assembly, my tale (of lustrous verse) was.

Speak not again, saying : " Hafiz knew subtlety" For, we have seen, a confirmed fool he was.