No less must the lovers suffer, Who press in the tavern's way
No less must the lovers suffer, Who press in the tavern's way,
Than pilgrims to Mecca bounden, Astoniment and affray.
My self, for thy separation, Had seeled up its eye from the world;
The hope of thy sight restored me My soul, that was gone astray.
Henceforth from the Loved One's presence I'll go to no door; for, since
The Káabeh I've found, I've turned me From idol-worship away.
A night such as this till morning From Fortune I ask, therein
The tale of my case to open To thee that begin I may.
Though Fate with desire consume thee For yonder pavilioned moon,
Yet, like to the candle, Hafiz, Stand fast and constant aye.
Than pilgrims to Mecca bounden, Astoniment and affray.
My self, for thy separation, Had seeled up its eye from the world;
The hope of thy sight restored me My soul, that was gone astray.
Henceforth from the Loved One's presence I'll go to no door; for, since
The Káabeh I've found, I've turned me From idol-worship away.
A night such as this till morning From Fortune I ask, therein
The tale of my case to open To thee that begin I may.
Though Fate with desire consume thee For yonder pavilioned moon,
Yet, like to the candle, Hafiz, Stand fast and constant aye.
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