Ghazal 69

There is no one who has not fallen for those twin tresses —

in whose path is there not a snare of calamity?

Since your eye steals hearts from recluses,

being in your company — the fault is not on our side.

Your face must be the mirror of divine grace —

truly it is so, and in this there is no deceit.

The narcissus seeks the style of your eye — what an eye!

The poor thing has no sense, and no shame in its gaze.

For God’s sake, do not adorn your tresses, for not a night passes

that we do not have a hundred quarrels with the morning breeze.

Return, for without your face, O heart-illuming candle,

there is no trace of light or purity at the companions’ feast.

Caring for strangers is the mark of good repute —

O soul, is this custom not practiced in your city?

Yesterday she passed and I said: O idol, keep your vow!

She said: You are mistaken, master — in this age there is no loyalty.

If the Magian elder became my guide, what difference does it make?

There is no head in which there is not a secret from God.

What shall the lover do if not bear the load of blame?

No brave one has a shield against the arrow of fate.

In the ascetic’s chapel and the Sufi’s retreat,

there is no prayer-niche but the arch of your brow.

O harp, plunged in the blood of Hafez’s heart —

have you no thought of the jealousy of God and the Quran?