CXLV
Breeze of the North, thy news allays my fears:
The hour of meeting with my Loved one nears.
Prospered by Heaven, O carrier pigeon, fly:
Hail to thee, hail to thee, come nigh, come nigh!
How fares our Salmâ? What Zú Salam's state?
Our neighbors there—are they unscathed by Fate?
The once gay banquet-hall is now devoid
Of circling goblets, and of friends who joyed.
Perished the mansion with its lot serene:
Interrogate the mounds where once 'twas seen.
The night of absence has now cast its shade:
What freaks by Fancy's night-gang will be played?
He who has loved relates an endless tale:
Here the most eloquent of tongues must fail.
My Turk's kind glances no one can obtain:
Alas, this pride, this coldness, this disdain!
In perfect beauty did thy wish draw nigh:
God guard thee from Kamál's malefic eye![44]
Háfiz, long will last
Patience, love, and pain?
Lovers wail is sweet:
Do thou still complain.