Ghazal 472

I praise God for the justice of the Sultan —

Ahmad, son of Sheikh Oveys, Hasan Ilkhani.

Khan son of Khan and king of kings by lineage —

the one whom it suits if you call him the soul of the world.

The unseen eye believed in your fortune —

welcome, O you worthy of such divine grace.

If the moon rises without you, let it be split in two —

the fortune of Ahmad and the miracle of the All-Holy.

The display of your fortune steals hearts from king and beggar —

far be the evil eye — for you are both soul and beloved.

Tilt your Turkish forelock — for in your horoscope

are the generosity and striving of Khaqani and Genghis Khan.

Though we are far, in your memory we raise the cup —

there is no distance of station in a spiritual journey.

From my Persian rose, no bud of joy has bloomed —

how lovely the Tigris of Baghdad and the basil-wine.

The lover's head that is not the dust of the beloved's door —

when will it find freedom from the affliction of bewilderment?

O dawn breeze, bring the dust of the friend's door —

that Hafez may make the eye of his heart luminous from it.