Set the hand within that loveling's Tress of double ply one cannot;
On thy promise and the wind-wafts Of the East rely one cannot.

What endeavour is and effort I in quest of thee have shown thee;
This much is, that Fate and Fortune Foreordained awry one cannot.

Loose the Loved One's skirt,—that, boughten With an hundred hearts' blood, fallen
In our hand is,—'spite the railers' Cavil and outcrý,—one cannot.

Since with aught that's head-and-foot less The Beloved hath no kinship,
That her cheek compare and liken To the moon on high one cannot.

When my cypress-statured loveling Comes to dancing, where's the value
Of the soul's wede, since before her Rend and cast it by one cannot?

Nay, what say I? For thy nature Is so dainty and so subtle
That to thee prefer the humblest Prayer or softest sigh one cannot.

Only to the pure of vision Visible the Loved One's cheek is;
For, if pure be not the mirror, Aught therein descry one cannot.

Slain am I with jealous rancour For that all the world doth love thee:
Yet with all God's creatures battle Day and night aby one cannot.

Love's enigmas are not holden In the bounds of mortal knowledge;
Nay, its tangles with this errant Brain and thought untie one cannot

Marry, for the heart of Hafiz, There's no prayer-niche but thine eyebrow;
Save it be to thee, devotion, In our order, ply one cannot.