Ghazal 311

I am a lover of the face of a fair young one, newly risen —

and from God I have asked for the fortune of this grief in prayer.

I am a lover and a rend and a glance-player, and I say it openly —

so that you may know with how many arts I am adorned.

I am ashamed of my stained cloak —

on which I have sewn patches with a hundred tricks.

Burn sweetly from her grief, O candle — for behold, I too

have girded my waist and risen for this very work.

With such bewilderment the profit of my work has slipped from my hand —

to grief I have added what I have taken from heart and soul.

Like Hafez, I go to the tavern in my coat —

perhaps that newly-risen charmer will take me in her arms.