Ghazal 238

The world drew kohl on the brow of the feast from the crescent —

the crescent of the feast must be seen in the beloved's brow.

My stature broke like the back of the crescent

when the bow of my beloved's brow drew its kohl back.

Perhaps the breeze of your cheek's down passed through the garden at dawn —

for the rose tore its garment upon its body from your scent, like the dawn.

It was not harp and lute and wine and incense that was —

the clay of my being was steeped in rosewater and wine.

Come, let me tell you the grief of my heart's weariness,

for without you I have no room for speaking or hearing.

If the price of your union is a life, I am the buyer —

for the one with good taste, whatever fine goods he sees, he buys.

When I would see your moon-face in the night of your tresses,

my night by your face would become bright as day.

My life reached my lip, and desire was not fulfilled —

hope reached its end, and seeking did not reach its end.

From longing for your face, Hafez wrote some words —

read his verse and take it into your ear like pearls.