One morning to the garden I we...

One morning to the garden I went a rose to pluck ,

Suddenly , came to my ear the clamour of a bulbul . *** Like me , wretched , in love for a rose , entangled he was

And into the sward , by hi* plaint , cast a clamour . *** Momently , in that garden - sward , I sauntered

On that rose and bulbul , I kept a - musing . *** The rose became the lover of the thorn and the bulbul , the associate of love and its pain

Not a change to this the rose nor to that the bulbul a change . *** When , in my heart , the bulbul's voice impression made ,

I so became that mine remained not a particle of patience . *** Of this garden , many a rose keepeth blossoming . But ,

From it , without the calamity of the thorn , none plucked a rose . *** Hafiz of this centre - place of existence , have no hope

A thousand defects , it hath it hath not a single excellence . ***