Hafez · Ghazal 343 · Forty years and more
چل سال بیش رفت که من لاف می‌زنمکز چاکران پیر مغان کمترین منم
هرگز به یمن عاطفت پیر می‌فروشساغر تهی نشد ز می صاف روشنم
از جاه عشق و دولت رندان پاک‌بازپیوسته صدر مصطبه‌ها بود مسکنم
در شأن من به دردکشی ظن بد مبرکآلوده گشت جامه، ولی پاک‌دامنم
شهباز دست پادشهم، این چه حالت است؟کز یاد برده‌اند هوای نشیمنم
حیف است بلبلی چو من اکنون در این قفسبا این لسان عذب، که خامش چو سوسنم
آب و هوای فارس عجب سفله‌پرور استکو همرهی؟ که خیمه از این خاک برکنم
حافظ! به زیر خرقه قدح تا به کی کشی؟در بزم خواجه، پرده ز کارت برافکنم
توران‌شه خجسته که در من یزید فضلشد منت مواهب او طوق گردنم
Hafez looks back over forty years of faithful service and finds his cup has never been empty. He knows others may judge him by stained clothes, but his heart is clean. If you feel overlooked, a falcon forgotten on its perch, the verse acknowledges that frustration honestly. It also reminds you of the steady kindness that has carried you this far. Be grateful for those who have been generous, look for a companion if it is time to move, and do not doubt your own good heart.
More than forty years have passed in which I have boasted
that I am the least of the Magian elder's servants.
Never, by the blessing of the wine-selling elder's kindness,
has my cup been empty of clear, bright wine.
By the rank of love and the fortune of the rends who stake all,
my dwelling has always been the seat of honour on the tavern bench.
Do not think ill of me because I drink the dregs,
for my clothes are stained, but my hem is pure.
I am the royal falcon on the king's hand; what has happened,
that they have forgotten my longing for my perch?
It is a pity that a nightingale like me, now in this cage,
with this sweet tongue, should be silent as the lily.
The water and air of Fars nurture the base, strangely;
where is a companion, so that I may pull up my tent from this soil?
Hafez, how long will you drink the cup beneath your cloak?
At the master's feast I will lift the veil from your doings.
Turanshah the auspicious, who outbids all in generosity,
the debt of his gifts has become a collar around my neck.