The Blood of the heart from the eye All over our face passeth
The blood of the heart from the eye All over our face passeth;
Beholdest thou not from the eye Thereo'er what ill case passeth?
A wish and a longing we hold Concealed in our innermost heart;
Because of which longing, our heart On the wind-blasts of space passeth.
In the dust of the path of the Friend Our face have we laid: and indeed,
'Tis fitting if over our cheeks She swimming apace passeth.
A torrent's the tears of mine eye: O'er what man soever they pass,
Albeit his heart were of stone, His heart from its place passeth
Contention I have day and night With the water that floodeth mine eyes,
That still tow'rd the end of her street, Ensuing her trace, passeth.
The sun of the Orient himself For jealousy rendeth his wede,
When that love-fost'ring moonface of mine In her garment of grace passeth.
Hafiz still in the winehouse's street, In candour and oneness of heart,
From sense, like the Soufis wool-clad And the cell-keeping race, passeth.
Beholdest thou not from the eye Thereo'er what ill case passeth?
A wish and a longing we hold Concealed in our innermost heart;
Because of which longing, our heart On the wind-blasts of space passeth.
In the dust of the path of the Friend Our face have we laid: and indeed,
'Tis fitting if over our cheeks She swimming apace passeth.
A torrent's the tears of mine eye: O'er what man soever they pass,
Albeit his heart were of stone, His heart from its place passeth
Contention I have day and night With the water that floodeth mine eyes,
That still tow'rd the end of her street, Ensuing her trace, passeth.
The sun of the Orient himself For jealousy rendeth his wede,
When that love-fost'ring moonface of mine In her garment of grace passeth.
Hafiz still in the winehouse's street, In candour and oneness of heart,
From sense, like the Soufis wool-clad And the cell-keeping race, passeth.
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