Ghazal 320

Last night by the flood of tears I was blocking the way of sleep —

I was tracing a design in memory of your script upon the water.

The beloved's brow in my sight, and the cloak burned —

I was drinking a crescent cup in memory of the prayer-niche's corner.

Every bird of thought that flew from the branch of speech,

I struck it back with the plectrum of your tresses.

The beauty's face was showing its splendor in my sight —

and from afar I was kissing the face of the moonlight.

My eye on the cupbearer's face and my ear on the harp's words —

I was casting an omen by eye and ear in this matter.

The design of the image of your face, until the time of dawn,

I was weaving on the loom of my sleepless eye.

The cupbearer kept holding out the cup to the tune of this ghazal —

I was singing this song and drinking pure wine.

The time was pleasant for Hafez, and the omen of desire and wish —

I was casting it upon the name of the life and fortune of friends.