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"CCLXXXIX" by Hafez

Her moon-like face is the meeting-place of beauty and grace.
But she is neither loving-kindness nor faithfulness. O God, give these to her.
My beloved is a charmer and a child who will one day kill me playfully
And there will be no punishment for it in the religious law
I had better guard my heart from her well,
For she has not seen any good nor bad, nor will she observe any.
The scent of milk is coming from her sugar-like lips
Even though blood is dripping from the peculiar style of her black eyes.
I have a fourteen year old agile and sweet idol
To whom the fortnight moon is a slave with all its soul
Following the tender rose, o lord, where did our heart go
That we have not seen it for a long time?
If my charming beloved breaks the heart [of the army] in this manner
The king will soon take her as his lifeguard
I will spend my life in gratitude
If the shell of Hafez’s breast be the resting pace of that pearl.

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