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ghazal 4
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437
Ghazal 4

Kindly tell the tender deer, O morning breeze
I am wandering your desert and the wild countries.
Long live the sugar merchant, but why
Is he unkind to sweet lovers, the honey-bees?
Tender rose, pride in your goodness forbids
To ask the manic nightingale of his fantasies.
Only with gentle compassion can you trap the wise.
The wise bird from any snare simply flees.
I know not why there is no familiarity
With the tall, black eye, bright faced beauties.
When in company of friends, glass of wine in hand
Remember old companions who travel upon the breeze.
The only criticism that I can have of you;
For kindness, the beauties charge extortionate fees.
No wonder if in the heavens, as claims Hafiz;
Venus’ song brings Christ to dancing sprees.

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