Ghazal 76

In all the world, I have no refuge but your threshold —

my head has no recourse but this door.

When the enemy draws a sword, I throw down my shield,

for my only weapon is a sigh and a moan.

Why should I turn my face from the lane of the tavern?

For in all the world there is no better path or way.

If time should set fire to my harvest of life,

tell it: burn — for I care not a straw.

I am a slave to the bewitching narcissus eyes of that graceful cypress —

who from the wine of pride gives no one a glance.

Do not pursue harm, and do whatever else you wish,

for in our faith there is no sin besides this.

Ride on with reins drawn, O sovereign of the realm of beauty,

for there is no road that lacks a seeker of justice.

Since from every side I see a snare upon the road,

I have no better refuge than the shelter of her tresses.

Do not give the treasury of Hafez’s heart to just any tress and mole,

for such affairs are not the business of every dark one.