غزل شمارهٔ 85

From His lip of ruby, a draft we tasted not; and He departed: His face, moon of form, we beheld not to our fill; and He departed.

Thou mayst say: “By our society, He hath become greatly straitened.” His chattels, He bound up: about him, we arrived not, and He departed.

Many the Fatiha and the Harz-i-Yamani that we recited: After that, we murmured the wholeheartedness, and He departed.

A glance, He gave saying: “From the street of desire, I depart not:” Thou sawest how, at last, we purchased the glance, and He departed.

Proudly moving, He went into the sward of beauty and of grace. But, In the rose garden of union with Him, we moved not, and He departed.

All night, weeping and wailing, we did like Hafez: For alas! for bidding Him farewell, we arrived not, and He departed.