Ghazal 491

With my eye I have made the brow of a moon-faced one —

the fancy of a green-downed one, I have etched an image somewhere.

There is hope that the decree of my love-making

may reach from that bow-brow to a royal seal.

My head has left my hand, my eye has burned from waiting —

in the longing for the head and eye of an assembly-adorner.

My heart is clouded — I will set fire to the cloak —

come, see whom it will make into a spectacle.

On the day of my death, make my coffin from the cypress —

for we go with the brand of a tall-statured one.

I, the dervish, have given the reins of my heart to one

who has no care for anyone's crown or throne.

In that station where beauties draw swords with a glance,

do not be amazed if a head falls at a foot.

I, who have the moon in my chamber from her face —

where would I have care for the light of a star?

What are separation and union? Seek the friend's pleasure —

for it would be a pity to desire anything from her but herself.

The fish will bring up pearls to scatter as offering

if the vessel of Hafez reaches a sea.