Ghazal 402

I will say a heart-stealing point — see the mole of that moon-face —

see reason and soul bound in the chain of those tresses.

I faulted my heart: Do not be wild-natured and vagrant —

it said: See the lion-catching eye and the coquetry of that gazelle.

The ring of her tresses is the spectacle-hall of the morning breeze —

see there the lives of a hundred men of heart, bound by a single hair.

The sun-worshippers are unaware of our beloved —

O blamer, for God's sake — do not look at me — look at that face.

Her heart-stealing tresses laid a bond on the neck of the breeze —

see the Hindu's trick played on the travelers of the road.

That I, in my search for her, became free of myself —

no one has seen or will see her like — look from every side.

If Hafez wails in the corner of the prayer-niche, it is justified —

O advisor, for God's sake — see that curve of the brow.

From the wish of King Mansur, O sky, do not turn your head —

behold the sharpness of the sword, see the strength of the arm.