LIX
My Prince, so gracefully thou steppest, that where thy footsteps
fall—I'd die.
My Turk, so gracefully thou glidest, before thy stature tall
I'd die.
"When wilt thou die before me?"—saidst thou. Why thus so eagerly
inquire?
These words of thy desire delight me; forestalling thy desire
I'd die.
I am a lover, drunk, forsaken: Sákí, that idol, where is he?
Come hither with thy stately bearing! let me thy fair form see,
I'd die.
Should he, apart from whom I've suffered a life-long illness, day by
day,
Bestow on me a glance, one only, beneath that orb dark-gray
I'd die.
"The ruby of my lips," thou saidst, "now bale, now balsam may exhale":
At one time from their healing balsam, at one time from their bale
I'd die.
How trim thy gait! May eye of evil upon thy face be never bent!
There dwells within my head this fancy; that at thy feet content
I'd die.
Though no place has been found for Háfiz
In Love's retreat, where hid thou art,
For me thine every part has beauty,
Before thine every part—
I'd die.