Ghazal 34

The portico of my eye’s prospect is your nesting place —

be gracious and alight, for this house is your house.

With the charm of your mole and down, you stole hearts from the mystics —

what subtle wonders lie beneath your snare and bait!

May your heart be glad with union with the rose, O nightingale of the breeze,

for in the garden all the birdsong is your lover’s cry.

Refer the remedy for our weak heart to your lips,

for this ruby elixir is in your treasury.

In body I fall short of the fortune of attending you,

but the essence of my soul is the dust of your threshold.

I am not one to give the coin of my heart to every flirt —

the treasury door is sealed with your seal and your sign.

What a marvel you are, O sweet-working rider —

that a wild steed like the sky is tamed by your whip!

What wonder that even the conjuring sky should slip —

from the tricks that are in the bag of your excuses.

The song of your gathering now sets the heavens to dancing,

for the verse of sweet-spoken Hafez is your melody.