Ghazal 92: My lord, how finely you walk; I would die for you, head to foot.

میر من خوش می‌روی کاندر سر و پا میرمت
خوش خرامان شو که پیش قد رعنا میرمت

گفته بودی کی بمیری پیش من، تعجیل چیست؟
خوش تقاضا می‌کنی پیش تقاضا میرمت

عاشق و مخمور و مهجورم بت ساقی کجاست؟
گو که بخرامد که پیش سرو بالا میرمت

آن که عمری شد که تا بیمارم از سودای او
گو نگاهی کن که پیش چشم شهلا میرمت

گفته‌ای لعل لبم هم درد بخشد هم دوا
گاه پیش درد و گه پیش مداوا میرمت

خوش خرامان می‌روی چشم بد از روی تو دور
دارم اندر سر خیال آن که در پا میرمت

گرچه جای حافظ اندر خلوت وصل تو نیست
ای همه جای تو خوش، پیش همه جا میرمت

My lord, how finely you walk; I would die for you, head to foot.
Walk on gracefully, for I would die before your handsome figure.

You had said: when will you die before me? Why the hurry?
You ask so sweetly; I would die before your asking.

I am in love, hung over and cut off; where is the idol, the cupbearer?
Tell him to walk this way, for I would die before his cypress height.

The one for whom I have been sick with longing a lifetime,
tell him: one look, for I would die before your dark eyes.

You have said: my ruby lip gives both the pain and the cure.
Now before the pain, now before the cure, I would die for you.

You walk so gracefully; may the evil eye be far from your face.
I have it in my head that I should die at your feet.

Though there is no place for Hafez in the privacy of union with you,
O you whose every place is good, before every place I would die for you.