Hafez · Ghazal 16 · The curve of your eyebrow
خمی که ابروی شوخ تو در کمان انداختبه قصد جان من زار ناتوان انداخت
نبود نقش دو عالم، که رنگ الفت بودزمانه طرح محبت، نه این زمان انداخت
به یک کرشمه که نرگس به خودفروشی کردفریب چشم تو صد فتنه در جهان انداخت
شراب‌خورده و خوی‌کرده می‌روی به چمنکه آب روی تو آتش در ارغوان انداخت
به بزمگاه چمن، دوش، مست، بگذشتمچو از دهان توام غنچه در گمان انداخت
بنفشه طره مفتول خود گره می‌زدصبا حکایت زلف تو در میان انداخت
ز شرم آن که به روی تو نسبتش کردمسمن به دست صبا، خاک در دهان انداخت
من از ورع، می و مطرب ندیدمی زین پیشهوای مغبچگانم در این و آن انداخت
کنون به آب می لعل، خرقه می‌شویمنصیبه ازل از خود نمی‌توان انداخت
مگر گشایش حافظ در این خرابی بودکه بخشش ازلش، در می مغان انداخت
جهان به کام من اکنون شود که دور زمانمرا به بندگی خواجه جهان انداخت
Something has turned your careful plans upside down, and you may be wondering whether it was a fall or a gift. Hafez says that love is older than the two worlds and that some portions are given before time; they cannot simply be thrown off. Rather than fighting what has come to you, look for the opening hidden inside it. What looked like ruin may be exactly where your release begins. Accept your path with grace, enjoy the beauty along it, and trust that the world can still turn in your favour.
The curve your playful eyebrow drew into a bow
it drew to take the life of wretched, feeble me.
There was no pattern yet of the two worlds when the colour of affection was;
time did not lay the design of love only now.
With one coquettish glance the narcissus made, showing itself off,
the deceit of your eye cast a hundred troubles into the world.
Flushed with wine and beaded with sweat you go to the meadow,
and the glow of your face has set the Judas-tree on fire.
Last night I passed, drunk, through the meadow's banquet,
when the rosebud set me wondering about your mouth.
The violet was knotting its twisted locks
when the breeze brought up the tale of your curl.
Ashamed that I had compared it with your face,
the jasmine, by the hand of the breeze, put dust in its own mouth.
Out of piety I had never looked at wine or minstrel before;
longing for the young Magians threw me into this and that.
Now I am washing my cloak in ruby wine;
no one can cast off the portion given before time.
Perhaps the opening for Hafez lay in this ruin,
that the gift of pre-eternity cast him into the Magians' wine.
Now the world will go as I wish, for the turning of time
has cast me into the service of the master of the world.