CLV
Last night my tears, a torrent stream, stopped Sleep by force:
I painted, musing on thy down, upon the water-course.
Then, viewing my Beloved one's brow—my cowl burnt up—
In honor of the sacred Arch I drained my flowing cup.
From my dear friend's resplendent brow pure light was shed;
And on that moon there fell from far the kisses that I sped.
The face of Sákí charmed my eye, the harp my ear:
At once for both mine ear and eye what omens glad were here!
I painted thine ideal face till morning's light,
Upon the studio of my eye, deprived of sleep at night.
My Sákí took at this sweet strain the wine-bowl up:
I sang to him these verses first; then drank to sparkling cup.
If any of my bird-like thoughts from joy's branch flew,
Back from the springes of thy lock their fleeting wings I drew.
The time of Háfiz passed in joy:
To friends I brought
For fortune and the days of life
The omens that they sought.