Ghazal 275

O Sufi, pick a rose and give the patched cloak to the thorn —

and give this dry piety to pleasant wine.

Lay pretensions and ecstatic utterances in the path of the harp's melody —

give the rosary and the shawl to wine and the wine-drinker.

Heavy piety that neither beauty nor cupbearer will buy —

in the circle of the garden, give it to the spring breeze.

Ruby wine struck me on the road, O commander of lovers —

forgive my blood to the well of the beloved's dimpled chin.

O Lord, in the time of the rose, forgive the servant's sin —

and give this affair to the cypress by the brook's edge.

O you who have found the way to the spring of desire —

from this ocean, give a drop to me, the dust-covered.

In gratitude that your eye has not seen the face of idols,

give us over to the forgiveness and kindness of the Lord.

When the king drinks the morning wine, O cupbearer,

tell him: Give the golden cup to Hafez, the keeper of the night vigil.