غزل شمارهٔ 153

In the morning when, his standard on the mountainous lands, the Khosro of the east pitched, With the hand of mercy, the door of hopeful ones, my beloved beat;

Before morning, when it became manifest what is the state of the sphere’s love It ascended; and, on the pride of potentates, a sweet laugh expressed.

Last night, when with the intention of dancing, my idol stood up, From the tress, she unloosed the knot; and on the hearts of beloved ones beat.

From the color of rectitude, that moment, I washed my hand in the heart’s blood: When His eye, wine-measuring, to the sensible ones, invitation expressed.

This usage of deceit, what iron taught Him, That when He came out, those keeping awake at night, He first attacked.

The idea of horsemen my wretched heart matured; and went: O Lord! preserve it, for, on the center of the horsemen, it dashed.

In the lustre and color of his cheek, what soul we gave: and what blood we drank: When His picture first appeared, on those soul-surrendering the writing he expressed.

By the woollen khirka, how into the noose may I bring Him, A hair-clad one whose eye-lash, those dagger-thrusting attacked.

The great king, Muzaffar of pomp, the bravery of the kingdom, and the faith of Mansur Whose liberality without hesitation, laughter, against the spring-cloud, expressed.

From that moment when, by his hand, the cup of wine became honored, In memory of its wine-drinkers, the cup of joyousness, time drained.

With his head-cleaving sword, gleamed victory that day When, like the star-consuming sun, on thousands, alone he dashed.

Hafez! from God’s grace, ask for his lasting life and kingdom; For, in the time of the people, this coin of fortune, the sphere struck.

On the die of grace, and the felicity of the King’s fortune, my glance is: Give the desire of the heart of Hafez who, the omen of the fortunate, struck.