Ghazal 469

The breezes of the beloved's sanctuary have come and my passion has increased —

may the precious life be the sacrifice of the dust of the friend's door.

To hear the message of the friend is felicity and safety —

who will deliver my greeting to Su'ad from me?

Come to the evening of exiles and see the water of my eye —

like pure wine in a glass of Syrian make.

When from the thicket of Arak a bird of good omen sings,

let not the moaning of my dove be absent from its garden.

Not much remains before the day of separation from the friend ends —

I have seen from the hilltops of the sanctuary the domes of tents.

How sweet the moment when you enter and I say to you in greeting:

You have come the best of comings; you have alighted in the best of stations.

I have gone far from you and have become wasting like a crescent —

though I have not seen your full moon-like face completely.

And if I am invited to paradise and I become a breaker of my vow,

my soul will not be pleased and my sleep will not be sweet.

There is hope that soon, by good fortune, I will see you —

you made happy by command, and I by servitude.

Like a string of fresh pearls is your sweet verse, Hafez —

which at times of grace surpasses the poetry of Nizami.