غزل شمارهٔ 145

I know not what is the intoxication that to us its face hath brought: Who is the cup-bearer? This wine, whence hath he brought?

To thy hand, bring thou also the cup; take the path to the desert; For, the sweet melody of song, the melody-warbling bird hath brought.

O heart! complain not of thy work enfolded like the rose-bud: For the knot-loosening breeze, the morning wind hath brought.

With welcome and happiness, be the arriving of the rose and of the wild rose; The violet, glad and beautiful, hath come; and purity, the lily hath brought.

With glad tidings, the breeze is the lapwing of Soleiman That, from the rose-bed of Saba, tidings of joy brought.

The Saki’s smile is our feeble heart’s remedy; Bring forth thy hand. For the physician hath come; and the remedy, hath brought.

O Sheikh! Of me, grieve not I am the disciple of the Pir of the Magians: For, thou promisedest; and, he to place hath brought.

I boast of the narrow-eyedness of that warrior bold one, Who, on me the darvish of one coat, assault brought.

Now with submission, the sky doeth Hafez’s service; Because refuge to the door of your fortune, he hath brought.