My eyeball's man drains my heart's blood; 'tis just:
In man's own darling did I place my trust.
My Loved one's Alif-form[45] stamps all my thought:
Save that, what letter has my master taught?
Let Háfiz' tear-drops
By thy lock be dried,
For fear I perish
In their rushing tide.
CLXVI
Knowest thou what fortune is?
'Tis Beauty's sight obtaining;
'Tis asking in her lane for alms,
And royal pomp disdaining.
Sev'erance from the wish for life an easy task is ever;
But lose we friends who sweeten life, the tie is hard to sever.
Bud-like with a serried heart I'll to the orchard wander;
The garment of my good repute I'll tear to pieces yonder;
Now, as doth the West-wind, tell deep secrets to the Flower,
Hear now of Love's mysterious sport from bulbuls of the bower.
Kiss thy Beloved one's lips at first while the occasion lingers:
Await thou else disgust at last from biting lip and fingers.
Profit by companionship: this two-doored house forsaken,
No pathway that can thither lead in future time is taken.