Hafez · Ghazal 323 · My reach is short
ز دست کوته خود زیر بارمکه از بالابلندان شرمسارم
مگر زنجیر مویی گیردم دستوگر نه سر به شیدایی برآرم
ز چشم من بپرس اوضاع گردونکه شب تا روز اختر می‌شمارم
بدین شکرانه می‌بوسم لب جامکه کرد آگه ز راز روزگارم
اگر گفتم دعای می فروشانچه باشد؟ حق نعمت می‌گزارم
من از بازوی خود دارم بسی شکر«که زور مردم آزاری ندارم»
سری دارم چو حافظ مست لیکنبه لطف آن سری امیدوارم
You may feel your reach is short, that others stand taller or have managed more. Hafez admits the same and then turns to gratitude: thanks for the cup that taught him the secret of time, thanks for the gift he has received, and thanks above all that his arm has no strength for harming anyone. That is a quiet strength worth honouring in yourself. Keep counting the stars if you must, but rest your hope in a kindness greater than your own reach.
Because of my own short reach I am bowed under a burden,
for I am ashamed before the tall ones.
Perhaps a chain of hair will take me by the hand;
otherwise I will lift my head in madness.
Ask my eye about the state of the turning sky,
for from night until day I count the stars.
In thanks for this I kiss the lip of the cup,
that it made me aware of the secret of time.
If I said a prayer for the wine-sellers,
what of it? I am giving thanks for a gift.
I am very grateful to my own arm
that it has no strength to hurt people.
Like Hafez, I have a drunken head, but
in the kindness of the One above I place my hope.