Hafez · Ghazal 240 · The March cloud has risen
ابر آذاری برآمد باد نوروزی وزیدوجه می می‌خواهم و مطرب، که می‌گوید رسید؟
شاهدان در جلوه و من شرمسار کیسه‌امبار عشق و مفلسی صعب است، می‌باید کشید
قحط جود است آبروی خود نمی‌باید فروختباده و گل از بهای خرقه می‌باید خرید
گوییا خواهد گشود از دولتم کاری که دوشمن همی‌کردم دعا و صبح صادق می‌دمید
با لبی و صد هزاران خنده آمد گل به باغاز کریمی گوییا در گوشه‌ای بویی شنید
دامنی گر چاک شد در عالم رندی چه باکجامه‌ای در نیکنامی نیز می‌باید درید
این لطایف کز لب لعل تو من گفتم، که گفت؟وین تطاول کز سر زلف تو من دیدم، که دید؟
عدل سلطان گر نپرسد حال مظلومان عشقگوشه‌گیران را ز آسایش طمع باید برید
تیر عاشق‌کش ندانم بر دل حافظ که زداین قدر دانم که از شعر ترش خون می‌چکید
The new year is in the air, and this ghazal carries a quiet sign of good fortune: Hafez was praying at the moment the true dawn broke, and he feels that a door is about to open. You may be short of means or feel shy about what you can offer, but he asks you to keep your dignity and not sell your honour for anything. Be willing to give up outward show for what truly brings joy. Like the rose that arrives laughing, expect generosity to find you. A sincere prayer at dawn is rarely wasted.
The March cloud has risen, and the New Year wind has blown;
I need the means for wine and a minstrel: who will tell me they have come?
The beauties are on display, and I am ashamed of my purse;
the burden of love and poverty is hard, but it must be borne.
Generosity is in famine, yet one must not sell one's honour;
wine and roses must be bought at the price of the cloak.
It seems fortune will open some door for me, for last night
I was praying while the true dawn was breaking.
With one lip and a hundred thousand laughs the rose came into the garden;
it seems she caught the scent of some generous one in a corner.
If a hem has been torn in the world of the rend, what does it matter?
Some garment must be torn in the name of good repute as well.
These graces I have spoken of your ruby lip, who else has spoken?
This tyranny I have seen from your curl, who else has seen?
If the sultan's justice does not ask after love's oppressed,
those who sit in corners must give up hope of rest.
I do not know who shot the lover-slaying arrow at Hafez's heart;
this much I know: blood was dripping from his fresh verse.