Hafez · Ghazal 235 · Blessed the time the beloved returns
زهی خجسته زمانی که یار بازآیدبه کام غمزدگان غمگسار بازآید
به پیش خیل خیالش کشیدم ابلق چشمبدان امید که آن شهسوار بازآید
اگر نه در خم چوگان او رود سر منز سر نگویم و سر خود چه کار بازآید
مقیم بر سر راهش نشسته‌ام چون گردبدان هوس که بدین رهگذار بازآید
دلی که با سر زلفین او قراری دادگمان مبر که بدان دل قرار بازآید
چه جورها که کشیدند بلبلان از دیبه بوی آن که دگر نوبهار بازآید
ز نقش بند قضا هست امید آن حافظکه همچو سرو به دستم نگار بازآید
This ghazal is full of the hope of return. You may be waiting for someone or something to come back into your life, sitting like dust at the roadside and watching the way. Hafez reminds you of the nightingales, who endure the whole of winter in the hope of spring, and spring always comes. The painter of destiny is still at work. Keep your eyes on the road and your heart open, but do not let waiting become your whole life. Blessed is the time of return, and your hope is not in vain.
How blessed the time when the beloved comes back,
when the comforter returns to grant the grieving their wish!
Before the troop of her image I have led out the piebald steed of my eyes,
in the hope that the royal rider will return.
If my head does not roll into the crook of her polo stick,
I will say no more of heads: what use would mine be then?
I sit always at the head of her road like dust,
longing that she will come back along this way.
A heart that made a pact with the tips of her curls,
do not imagine that heart will ever find rest again.
How many cruelties the nightingales endured from winter
in the hope that spring would come again!
Hafez has hope from the painter of destiny
that, like a cypress, the beloved will come back into my arms.