Hafez · Ghazal 376 · Friends, in the season of the rose
دوستان وقت گل آن به که به عشرت کوشیمسخن اهل دل است این و به جان بنیوشیم
نیست در کس کرم و وقت طرب می‌گذردچاره آن است که سجاده به می بفروشیم
خوش هوایی‌ست فرح‌بخش خدایا بفرستنازنینی که به رویش می گل‌گون نوشیم
ارغنون ساز فلک ره‌زن اهل هنر استچون از این غصه ننالیم و چرا نخروشیم؟
گل به جوش آمد و از می نزدیمش آبیلاجرم زآتش حرمان و هوس می‌جوشیم
می‌کشیم از قدح لاله شرابی موهومچشم بد دور که بی‌مطرب و می مدهوشیم
حافظ این حال عجب با که توان گفت که مابلبلانیم که در موسم گل خاموشیم
The season of the rose is here, and Hafez's advice is to receive it gladly, to listen to the wise, and not let the time for joy slip by. Yet he also confesses a strange silence: nightingales who cannot sing in spring. If you feel muted in a season that should be bright, be gentle with yourself. Ask for the company that would gladden you, and let even an imagined cup from the tulip lift your spirits. Your voice will return; the rose is already blooming.
Friends, in the season of the rose it is best to strive for pleasure;
this is the word of the people of heart, so let us listen with our souls.
There is generosity in no one, and the time of joy is passing;
the remedy is to sell the prayer-mat for wine.
The air is lovely and gladdening; O God, send
a sweet one before whose face we may drink rose-coloured wine.
The sky that plays the organ waylays the gifted;
how should we not lament this grief, why should we not cry out?
The rose has come to the boil, and we have not sprinkled it with wine;
no wonder we seethe in the fire of loss and longing.
We draw an imagined wine from the tulip's cup;
may the evil eye stay far: without minstrel or wine we are senseless.
Hafez, to whom can one tell this strange state, that we
are nightingales who, in the season of the rose, are silent?