Hafez · Ghazal 383 · I told my sorrow to the physicians
چندان که گفتم غم با طبیباندرمان نکردند مسکین غریبان
آن گل که هر دم در دست بادیستگو شرم بادش از عندلیبان
یا رب امان ده تا بازبیندچشم محبان روی حبیبان
درج محبت بر مهر خود نیستیا رب مبادا کام رقیبان
ای منعم آخر بر خوان جودتتا چند باشیم از بی نصیبان
حافظ نگشتی شیدای گیتیگر می‌شنیدی پند ادیبان
Some sorrows cannot be cured by ordinary remedies, and you may feel like a stranger whose pain others do not quite see. Hafez's prayer is simple: Lord, grant us time, so that those who love may see their beloved again. That is the hope this ghazal holds out to you: time, and reunion. He also turns to the generous one and asks, without shame, for his share. You may ask too. And he gently reminds himself to heed good counsel rather than chase the world's passing loves.
For all that I told my sorrow to the physicians,
they found no cure for the poor strangers.
That rose which is every moment in the hand of some wind,
tell her she should feel shame before the nightingales.
O Lord, grant us time, so that once more
the eyes of lovers may see the faces of the beloved.
The casket of love no longer keeps its seal;
O Lord, may the rivals never have their wish.
O generous one, at last, at the table of your bounty,
how long must we be among those who have no share?
Hafez, you would not have grown mad for the world
if you had listened to the counsel of the learned.