At every word I utter In praise of those her graces,
Quoth all who hear, “His milk-flow From God most High to trace is.”

“When wilt thou have compassion On my sad soul?” “I asked her.
Quoth she, “What time our union Unbarred by time and space is.”

Erst loveliking and toping Seemed easy of achievement;
But now my soul outwearied And wasted in the chase is.

On what a goodly fashion Helláj upon the gibbet
Said, “Question not the Mufti Anent this manner cases!”

My heart a friend I've given, A dainty saucy fair one,
A loveling full of favour, In whom no whit of base is.

Erst, like thine eye, the straitest Was I of corner-sitters;
But, like thy brows, to topers Inclining now my face is.

Floods by the hundred thousand, For tears, I've borne like Noah's;
Yet from my bosom's tablet thine image nought effaces.

Woe's me, the charmer gives me No áccess to her presence,
Though go-betweens I summon Of many kinds and races!

O Friend, the hand of Hafiz A charm against the Eye is;
Would at thy neck I saw it, Whereas its proper place is!