Ghazal 193

In our way of gazing, the unaware are bewildered —

I am as I have shown myself; let them decide for themselves.

The wise are the fixed point of the compass of existence, but

love knows that in this circle they are wandering lost.

The stage for the display of His face is not my eye alone —

the sun and moon are also turning this same mirror.

Our covenant with sweet-mouthed ones was sealed by God —

we are all servants, and these people are the lords.

We are penniless, yet we desire wine and minstrel —

alas, if they will not accept the woolen cloak as a pledge.

The union with the sun does not reach the blind night-moth —

for in that mirror, even the people of vision are bewildered.

Boasting of love, yet complaining of the friend? What a false boast!

Such lovers are worthy of separation.

Perhaps your dark eye will teach me the art —

otherwise, modesty and drunkenness are not within everyone's reach.

If the wind carries your scent to the pleasure-garden of spirits,

reason and soul will scatter the jewel of existence as an offering.

If the ascetic does not understand Hafez's revelry, what of it?

The demon flees from those people who recite the Quran.

If the young Magians should become aware of our thoughts,

from now on they will not accept the Sufi's cloak as a pledge.