غزل شمارهٔ 12

O! the splendor of the moon-beauty from the illumined face of Thine! The lustre of beauteousness from the chin-dimple of Thine!

My soul at the lip desireth the sight of Thee: Back it goeth; forth, it cometh; what order is Thine? ‘

By the revolution of Thy eye, none obtained a portion of enjoyment: Best, that they sell the veil of chastity to the intoxicated ones of Thine.

Our sleep-stained fortune will, perchance, become vigilant, On that account that a little water on its eye, expressed that gleaming face of Thine.

Along with the wind, send from Thy cheek a handful of roses: It may be that I may perceive a perfume from the dust of the rose garden of Thine.

O Sakis of the banquet of Jam, long be your life; desire., Although our cup be not full of wine at the circulation of yours.

My heart worketh desolation. Inform the heart-possessor: Verily, O friends, I swear by soul of mine and soul of Thine.

O Lord! when these desires, that are our companions appear, Collected will be the heart of ours; and dishevelled the tress of Thine.

When by us, Thou passest, from dust and from blood keep far thy skirt: For, on this Path many a one hath become a sacrifice of Thine.

O breeze! from us, to the dwellers of Yazd say: The head of those not recognizing truths the polo ball of yours.

From the plain of propinquity, though we be far, not far is desire: The slave of your King we are, and the praise-utterer of yours.

O King of Kings, lofty of star! for God’s sake, a blessing, That, like the sky, I may kiss the dust of the court of yours.

Hafez uttereth a prayer. Listen: say an amin! Be my daily food the lips sugar-scattering of Thine.