Chapter LXXXVII

When beamed Thy beauty on creation's morn,
The world was set on fire by love new-born.

Thy cheek shone bright, yet angels' hearts were cold:
Then flashed it fire, and turned to Adam's mould.

The lamp of Reason from this flame had burned,
But lightning jealousy the world o'erturned.

The enemy Thy secret sought to gain;
A hand unseen repelled the beast profane.

The die of Fate may render others glad:
My own heart saddens, for its lot is sad.

Thy chin's deep pit allures the lofty mind:
The hand would grasp thy locks in twines entwined,

Háfiz his love-scroll
To Thyself addressed,
When he had cancelled
What his heart loved best.

LXXXVIII

The preacher of the town will find my language hard, maybe:
While bent upon deceit and fraud, no Mussulman is he.

Learn drinking and do gracious deeds; the merit is not great
If a mere brute shall taste not wine, and reach not man's estate.

Efficient is the Name Divine; be of good cheer, O heart!
The dív becomes not Solomon by guile and cunning's art.

The benisons of Heaven are won by purity alone:
Else would not pearl and coral spring from every clod and stone?