Hafez · Ghazal 265 · Not yet fulfilled
برنیامد از تمنای لبت کامم هنوزبر امید جام لعلت دردی‌آشامم هنوز
روز اول رفت دینم در سر زلفین توتا چه خواهد شد در این سودا سرانجامم هنوز
ساقیا یک جرعه‌ای زان آب آتش‌گون که مندر میان پختگان عشق او خامم هنوز
از خطا گفتم شبی زلف تو را مشک ختنمی‌زند هر لحظه تیغی مو بر اندامم هنوز
پرتو روی تو تا در خلوتم دید آفتابمی‌رود چون سایه هر دم، بر در و بامم هنوز
نام من رفته‌ست روزی بر لب جانان به سهواهل دل را بوی جان می‌آید از نامم هنوز
در ازل داده‌ست ما را ساقی لعل لبتجرعه جامی که من مدهوش آن جامم هنوز
ای که گفتی جان بده تا باشدت آرام جانجان به غم‌هایش سپردم، نیست آرامم هنوز
در قلم آورد حافظ قصه لعل لبشآب حیوان می‌رود هر دم ز اقلامم هنوز
Your wish has not yet been granted, and you may feel, like Hafez, that you are still drinking the dregs while you wait for the full cup. Yet notice what this ghazal holds: a single moment of grace, a name spoken once by the beloved, still gives off the scent of life long afterwards. What has truly touched you has not left you. Keep your heart open and keep telling your story; the water of life is already flowing through it, even while the wish is still on its way.
My longing for your lips has not yet been fulfilled;
in hope of your ruby cup I am still drinking the dregs.
On the first day my faith was lost to the tips of your two curls;
what my end will be in this passion, I still do not know.
Saqi, a sip of that fire-coloured water, for I,
among those ripened by his love, am still raw.
One night I mistakenly called your curl the musk of Khotan;
every moment each hair on my body still rises against me like a blade.
Since the sun saw the radiance of your face in my retreat,
it still moves like a shadow, every moment, over my door and roof.
My name once passed by chance across the beloved's lips;
the people of heart still catch the scent of life from my name.
In the beginning of time the saqi of your ruby lip gave us
a sip from a cup of which I am still senseless.
O you who said, "Give up your life, and your soul will have peace":
I gave my life to her sorrows, and still I have no peace.
Hafez set down in writing the tale of her ruby lip;
the water of life still flows every moment from my pens.