Ghazal 55: The curl of your tress is the snare of unbelief and faith alike

خم زلف تو دام کفر و دین است
ز کارستان او یک شمه این است

جمالت معجز حسن است لیکن
حدیث غمزه‌ات سحر مبین است

ز چشم شوخ تو جان کی توان برد؟
که دایم با کمان اندر کمین است

بر آن چشم سیه صد آفرین باد
که در عاشق کشی سحرآفرین است

عجب علمیست علم هیئت عشق
که چرخ هشتمش، هفتم زمین است

تو پنداری که بدگو رفت و جان برد؟
حسابش با کرام الکاتبین است

مشو حافظ ز کید زلفش ایمن
که دل برد و کنون در بند دین است

The curl of your tress is the snare of unbelief and faith alike;
this is one small sample from its workshop.

Your beauty is a miracle of loveliness, but
the story of your glance is plain sorcery.

How can anyone escape with his life from your bold eye,
which lies forever in ambush with its bow?

A hundred blessings on that black eye,
which in the slaying of lovers creates magic.

A strange science is the astronomy of love,
whose eighth heaven is the seventh earth.

Do you think the slanderer has gone and got away with his life?
His account is with the noble recording angels.

Hafez, do not feel safe from the cunning of her tress,
for it took your heart and is now after your faith.