Rumi Quatrain #267, Foruzanfar

A foot that would wander with joy at night,
A hand that would pluck a fist of flowers:
That hand was severed, and that foot crushed
By the ambush of death’s gnashing jaws.

پای که همی رفت بشبستان سر مست
دستی که همی چید زگل دسته بدست
از بند و گشاد دهن دام اجل
ان دست بریده گشت وان پای شکست

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