Hafez · Ghazal 285 · In the reign of a forgiving king
در عهد پادشاه خطابخش جرم پوشحافظ قرابه کش شد و مفتی پیاله نوش
صوفی ز کنج صومعه با پای خم نشستتا دید محتسب که سبو می‌کشد به دوش
احوال شیخ و قاضی و شرب الیهودشانکردم سؤال صبحدم از پیر می فروش
گفتا نه گفتنیست سخن گرچه محرمیدرکش زبان و پرده نگه دار و می بنوش
ساقی بهار می‌رسد و وجه می نماندفکری بکن که خون دل آمد ز غم به جوش
عشق است و مفلسی و جوانی و نوبهارعذرم پذیر و جرم به ذیل کرم بپوش
تا چند همچو شمع زبان آوری کنی؟پروانه مراد رسید ای محب خموش
ای پادشاه صورت و معنی که مثل تونادیده هیچ دیده و نشنیده هیچ گوش
چندان بمان که خرقه ازرق کند قبولبخت جوانت از فلک پیر ژنده پوش
Hafez writes with a smile about a time when even the strict have relaxed and everyone is quietly human. The old wine-seller's counsel is the heart of it for you: some things are not to be told; hold your tongue, keep the veil, and enjoy what is good. If you have spoken too much or worried too long, the moth you were waiting for has already arrived, so be still. And if you feel short of what you need this spring, ask kindly for understanding. Love, youth and spring are their own excuse.
In the reign of a king who pardons errors and covers faults,
Hafez became a carrier of flagons, and the mufti a drinker of cups.
The Sufi left the corner of his cell and sat at the foot of the jar
once he saw the inspector carrying a wine-jug on his shoulder.
About the sheikh and the judge, and their drinking in secret,
I asked the old wine-seller at dawn.
He said: "These are not things to be told, though you are a confidant:
hold your tongue, keep the veil, and drink your wine."
Saqi, spring is coming and nothing is left to buy wine;
think of something, for the heart's blood is boiling with grief.
It is love, and poverty, and youth, and early spring:
accept my excuse, and cover my fault with the hem of your generosity.
How long will you go on talking like the candle?
The moth of your desire has come, O lover: be silent.
O king of outer form and inner meaning, whose like
no eye has ever seen and no ear has ever heard:
Stay so long that your young fortune
receives the blue cloak from the old, ragged-robed sky.