Hafez · Ghazal 372 · Let us pass along the tavern street
بگذار تا ز شارع میخانه بگذریمکز بهر جرعه‌ای همه محتاج این دریم
روز نخست چون دم رندی زدیم و عشقشرط آن بود که جز ره آن شیوه نسپریم
جایی که تخت و مسند جم می‌رود به بادگر غم خوریم خوش نبود به که می خوریم
تا بو که دست در کمر او توان زدندر خون دل نشسته چو یاقوت احمریم
واعظ مکن نصیحت شوریدگان که مابا خاک کوی دوست به فردوس ننگریم
چون صوفیان به حالت و رقصند مقتداما نیز هم به شعبده دستی برآوریم
از جرعه تو خاک زمین در و لعل یافتبیچاره ما که پیش تو از خاک کمتریم
حافظ چو ره به کنگره کاخ وصل نیستبا خاک آستانه این در به سر بریم
When even the thrones of kings are carried off by the wind, Hafez says, it makes little sense to feed on sorrow. Choose instead what nourishes you. You made a promise to yourself at the beginning, to follow a certain path of love and honesty, and this ghazal asks you to keep it. You need not reach the high battlements at once. There is dignity and contentment in staying faithfully at the threshold of what you love while you wait. Let worry go, and be glad of your place.
Let us pass along the tavern street,
for we all have need of this door for a single sip.
On the first day, when we spoke of rendi and of love,
the condition was that we would walk no road but that way.
Where the throne and seat of Jamshid are swept away by the wind,
it is not good to drink sorrow; better that we drink wine.
In hope that one day a hand might reach around his waist,
we sit in the heart's blood like the red ruby.
Preacher, do not counsel the love-crazed, for we,
with the dust of the friend's street, do not even look at paradise.
Since the Sufis are the leaders in rapture and dance,
we too will raise our hands in a conjuror's trick.
From your draught the dust of the earth found pearls and rubies;
poor us, who are less than dust before you.
Hafez, since there is no way to the battlements of union's palace,
let us live out our days with the dust of this threshold.