Hafez · Ghazal 203 · For years our book lay in pledge for wine
سال‌ها دفتر ما در گرو صهبا بودرونق می‌کده از درس و دعای ما بود
نیکی پیر مغان بین که چو ما بدمستانهر چه کردیم به چشم کرمش زیبا بود
دفتر دانش ما جمله بشویید به میکه فلک دیدم و در قصد دل دانا بود
از بتان آن طلب ار حسن شناسی ای دلکاین کسی گفت که در علم نظر بینا بود
دل چو پرگار به هر سو دورانی می‌کردو اندر آن دایره سرگشته پابرجا بود
مطرب از درد محبت عملی می‌پرداختکه حکیمان جهان را مژه خون پالا بود
می‌شکفتم ز طرب زان که چو گل بر لب جویبر سرم سایه آن سرو سهی بالا بود
پیر گلرنگ من اندر حق ازرق‌پوشانرخصت خبث نداد ار نه حکایت‌ها بود
قلب اندوده حافظ بر او خرج نشدکاین معامل به همه عیب نهان بینا بود
The Magian elder in this ghazal is generous: whatever his followers did, he saw it with the eye of kindness. You may need that kind of gaze now, from someone else or from yourself. Hafez also suggests that cleverness and book learning are not everything; there is a certain something in beauty and in love that only the heart can recognise. Even when you circle and feel bewildered, like a compass, your centre can stand firm. Give up pretending, since the wise see through it, and rest in the shade of what you love.
For years our book lay in pledge for red wine;
the tavern's lustre came from our lessons and our prayers.
See the goodness of the Magian elder: for bad drunkards like us,
whatever we did was beautiful in the eye of his generosity.
Wash our whole book of learning in wine,
for I saw that the heavens were set against the wise heart.
O heart, if you know beauty, seek that certain something in the fair,
for one who said this saw clearly in the science of gazing.
The heart, like a compass, went circling in every direction,
and within that circle it was bewildered, yet stood firm.
The minstrel, from the pain of love, was playing a melody
that made the lashes of the world's sages strain blood.
I was blooming with joy, for like a rose beside the stream
the shade of that tall, straight cypress was over my head.
My rose-coloured elder, regarding the blue-robed ones,
gave no leave to speak ill; otherwise there were tales to tell.
Hafez's gilded counterfeit coin did not pass with him,
for this trader could see every hidden fault.