Ghazal 12

O you whose radiant face gives splendor to the moon of beauty,

the honor of loveliness springs from the well of your chin.

My soul has come to the lip, intending to behold you —

shall it return, or depart? What is your command?

No one found peace in the orbit of your narcissus eyes —

better not to sell one’s modesty to your drunken gaze.

Our drowsy fortune will perhaps awaken,

for your radiant face has splashed water upon our eyes.

Send with the breeze a bouquet of roses from your cheek,

that we may catch a fragrance from the soil of your garden.

May you live long, O cupbearers of Jamshid’s feast,

though our cup was never filled in your rounds.

The heart makes ruin — alert the heart-holder to this!

Beware, O friends — by my life and yours.

When, O Lord, will this desire be fulfilled, that they join hands:

our collected thoughts, and your scattered tresses?

Keep your skirt from blood and dust when you pass by us,

for many lie slain on this path — sacrificed for you.

Hafez offers a prayer — hear it, and say amen:

may our daily sustenance be your sugar-scattering ruby lips.

O breeze, say to those dwelling in the city of Yazd:

O you whose unworthy heads are the ball for your polo stick!

Though we are far from the carpet of closeness, our devotion is not far —

we are servants of your king, and sing your praise.

O king of high stars, for God’s sake, grant us a moment’s grace,

that like a star I may kiss the dust of your palace.