Ghazal 225

Cupbearer, the talk of cypress and rose and tulip goes on,

and this discussion goes on with the three laundresses.

Give wine, for the new bride of the garden has reached the height of beauty —

the work now goes by the art of the matchmaker.

All the parrots of India will become sugar-cracking

from this Persian sugar that goes to Bengal.

See the folding of space and time in the journey of verse —

for this child travels a year's road in one night.

See that sorcerous, worshipper-beguiling eye —

whose caravan of magic goes trailing behind it.

Do not stray from the path by the world's wiles — for this old hag

sits like a schemer and goes about as a trickster.

The spring wind blows from the king's rosegarden,

and from the dewdrops wine goes into the tulip's cup.

Hafez, from longing for the gathering of Sultan Ghiyas al-Din,

do not be heedless — for your work goes by lamenting.