Thy lashes black a thousand rents, Sweet, in this faith have frayed of mine;
Come, let me cull a thousand pains From thy sick eye, fair maid of mine.

Thou, my heart's fellow, from whose thought Thy friends have faded, may there ne'er
That moment be for me, when thou Shalt from this memory fade of mine!

Old and unstable is the world: Out on this lover-murderer!
For weary me its fraud and guile Of this sweet life have made of mine.

This world and that the sacrifice Of cupbearer and loveling be!
For, that the world's Love's parasite, Is to these eyes displayed of mine.

If in my place the Loved One choose Another, she the mistress is;
But deadly sin it were if life For me that Friend outweighed of mine.

Rose-like, for absence, drowned in sweat Am I become: O wind of night,
Bring me a heat-allaying waft From yonder fair's tress-braid of mine!

The tale of passion, in this book That is set down, is Hafiz' all:
Certes, I had it from himself; For versing is no trade of mine.