غزل شمارهٔ 340

Although from the heart's fire, like a (foaming) jar of wine, in tumult I am, The seal (of silence) on my lip pressed, the blood (of grief) I drink ; and silent I am.

To show desire for the lip of the (true) Beloved is (to make) an attempt upon (one's own) life : Behold thou me who, in this matter, with soul (strenuously) strive !

Free from the heart's grief, how may I become, when, momently, The Hindu of the tress of the idol (the true Beloved) me, beringed (as His slave) maketh ?

God forbid ! not trusting to my own devotion, am I : (Only) this is the extent that, sometimes, a goblet (of the wine of love to God), I drink (and in it strive).

Hope is mine that despite the enemy (shaitan), on the day of requital (resurrection-day), Not, on my back, will the bounty of His pardon place the load of sin.

For two wheat-grains, my Father, Adam, sold the garden of Rizvan (paradise) ; If, for a barley-grain, I sell it not, unworthy son I shall be.

Not from exceeding religiousness, is my inducing of the khirka ; Over the head of a hundred secret sins, a veil (the khirka) I place.

I who desire not to drink save of the purest wine ; What shall I do, if the speech of the Pir of the Magians, I hear not ?

If with this hand (way), the minstrel of the assembly (the perfect murshid) waylayeth, love (rendering lovers selfless ; and drawing them into his net), (Even so), at the time of sama', me, from sense, the (lustrous) verse of Hafiz taketh.