Ghazal 326

In the secret chamber of pleasure I have a sweet idol —

from whose tresses and face I have my horseshoe in the fire.

I am a lover and a rend and a wine-drinker, with a loud voice —

and all this rank I hold from that angelic houri.

If you thus keep me without order in this fashion,

I will disorder your tresses with my dawn sigh.

If the beloved's verdant down should open its face like this,

I have a yellow face painted with blood-water.

If you would step into the house of the rends,

I have sweet poetry as confection, and pure wine.

Bring the arrow of the glance and the rope of tresses — for I

have wars with this wounded, affliction-bearing heart.

Hafez, since the grief and joy of the world are passing,

it is best that I keep my own mind happy.