غزل شمارهٔ 1986

Beautiful one, by your roguish eye, signal with your eye; for one moment repair with a glance this your ruin.

Heart and soul, martyrs to your love, in the tomb of the body—pass along by the tomb of those martyrs, pay a pilgrimage.

You are come like a Joseph, all Egypt has cut its hands; display your charm and take my heart and soul, do a deal!

Or if you have stamped your foot tyrannically and sworn a vow, then break your vow—what matter? Do expiation.

Say not, “What profit shall I have from this offering of yours?” You need not profit; give, and take a loss!

Convert this saffronlike cheek into the like of roses and anemones; make a rejoicing heart out of three or four drops of blood.

Since fortune is your slave, it will never rebel against you; king, be an ambassador between us and fortune.

Since sins are as a straw before the mountain of your clemency, look with disdain upon our mountain of sins.

Our body was two drops of blood that became pure and human; you also cleanse the impure quality.

Since souls here become the prisoner of water and clay from the world of the spirit, deliver them from the clay, Abode of War, and make a raid!

Since I have repented of words, for the sake of the disciples instead of words issue a meaningful signal and command.

This firelike breath is for the sake of making warm; make a glow other than your breath a source of heat.

You who are King Shams-i D¯ın, by the shining manifestation of yourself, make lovely Tabriz the abode of vision.