Hafez · Ghazal 39 · What need has my garden of cypress?
باغ مرا چه حاجت سرو و صنوبر است؟شمشاد خانه‌پرور ما از که کمتر است؟
ای نازنین‌پسر، تو چه مذهب گرفته‌ای؟کت خون ما حلال‌تر از شیر مادر است
چون نقش غم ز دور ببینی شراب خواهتشخیص کرده‌ایم و مداوا مقرر است
از آستان پیر مغان، سر چرا کشیم؟دولت در آن سرا و گشایش در آن در است
یک قصه بیش نیست غم عشق، وین عجبکز هر زبان که می‌شنوم، نامکرر است
دی وعده داد وصلم و در سر شراب داشتامروز تا چه گوید و بازش چه در سر است
شیراز و آب رکنی و این باد خوش نسیمعیبش مکن که خال رخ هفت کشور است
فرق است از آب خضر که ظلمات جای او استتا آب ما که منبعش الله اکبر است
ما آبروی فقر و قناعت نمی‌بریمبا پادشه بگوی که روزی مقدر است
حافظ چه طرفه شاخ نباتیست کلک توکش میوه دلپذیرتر از شهد و شکر است
What you need may already be growing at home. Hafez praises his own box-tree, his city's stream and its sweet wind, and asks for nothing grander. He keeps the honour of contentment and trusts that his daily bread is provided. When he sees grief approaching, he has a ready remedy: turn towards what gladdens, and keep to the threshold where fortune lives. Love's story is old, yet each telling is new. Value what is yours, keep your dignity, and let simple joys answer your question.
What need has my garden of cypress and pine?
Our home-grown box-tree, who is it less than?
O darling boy, what creed have you taken up,
that our blood is more lawful to you than mother's milk?
When you see the shape of grief from afar, call for wine;
we have made the diagnosis, and the cure is prescribed.
Why should we turn our head from the threshold of the Magian elder?
Fortune is in that house, and the opening is at that door.
The grief of love is no more than one story, and this is the wonder:
from every tongue I hear it, it is never the same.
Yesterday she promised me union, with wine in her head;
let us see what she will say today, and what is in her head again.
Shiraz, the water of Rokni and this sweet-scented wind:
find no fault with them, for they are the mole on the cheek of the seven climes.
There is a difference between the water of Khizr, whose home is the darkness,
and our water, whose source is Allahu Akbar.
We will not throw away the honour of poverty and contentment;
tell the king: our daily bread is ordained.
Hafez, what a rare stalk of sugar-cane your pen is,
whose fruit is more delightful than honey and sugar.