Poem #107

May your beauty increase with every day, Your face like tulips in a bright array.

Eternal bloom upon your cheeks appear, More lovely with the passing of each year.

In our heads, the phantom of your love remains, A constant thought that soothes our mortal pains.

May this vision grow and never cease, Bringing our souls a strange and wild peace.

Every cypress standing in the glade, Bows to your stature, humbled in the shade.

Before your grace, let all tall trees bend low, And in your service, their devotion show.

The eye that is not captivated there, By your enchantment and your beauty rare.

Let it be drowned in tears of blood and pain, A jewel lost beneath the crimson rain.

Your eye, skilled in the art of stealing hearts, Uses magic and a thousand subtle arts.

May it continue in its sorcery, Binding the lovers who would fain be free.

Wherever a heart in grief for you is found, May it be restless, wandering, and unbound.

Without patience, peace, or quiet rest, Forever seeking what it loves the best.

The stature of all beauties in the land, Before your Alif, like a Nun must stand.

Curved and humble, bowing to your grace, They find no station in your presence's place.

Every heart that is empty of your love, Barred from the circle of the saints above.

Let it be banished from your union's ring, An outcast from the joy that lovers sing.

Your ruby lip, which is Hafez's soul, Keep far from base men's touch and their control.

Let not the unworthy taste that sacred wine, Which belongs only to the true and fine.