Ghazal 128

There is no beauty in this city who can steal my heart —

if fortune befriends me, it will carry my belongings from here.

Where is a companion, generous and drunk, before whose grace

the burnt-hearted lover would take the name of desire?

O gardener, I see you unaware of autumn —

alas for the day the wind carries off your fine rose.

The highway robber of time does not sleep — do not feel safe,

for if it did not steal today, it will steal tomorrow.

In imagination I play all these puppet-games with desire —

perhaps some person of insight will take away the name of spectacle.

The knowledge and virtue that my heart gathered over forty years —

I fear those drunken narcissus eyes will carry them off in plunder.

What echo does the bellowing of an ox give back? Do not be deceived —

who is this Samiri who could outdo the White Hand?

The glass cup of wine blocks the road of narrow-heartedness —

do not set it down, lest the flood of your grief sweep you away.

Though the path of love is an ambush of archers,

whoever walks it knowingly gains the advantage over enemies.

Hafez! If the beloved's drunken glance demands your life,

clear the house of all else and let it be taken.