Ghazal 265

My desire for your lip has not yet been fulfilled —

in hope of your ruby cup, I am still a dregs-drinker.

On the first day my faith was lost in your two tresses —

what will become of me in this bargain, I still do not know.

O cupbearer, one draught of that water of fire-color — for

among those cooked in her love, I am still raw.

By mistake one night I called your tresses the musk of Khutan —

every moment a sword-like hair still strikes my body.

Since the sunlight saw the radiance of your face in my solitude,

like a shadow it comes every moment to my door and roof still.

My name one day passed by chance over the beloved's lip —

the people of heart still catch the scent of life from my name.

In eternity, the cupbearer of your ruby lip gave us

a draught from a cup that still intoxicates me.

O you who said: Give your life, that you may have peace of soul —

I gave my life to her griefs, and still have no peace.

Hafez put into writing the tale of her ruby lip —

the Water of Life still flows every moment from my pens.