Hafez · Ghazal 412 · That bow-browed one
مرا چشمی‌ست خون‌افشان ز دست آن کمان‌ابروجهان بس فتنه خواهد دید از آن چشم و از آن ابرو
غلام چشم آن ترکم که در خواب خوش مستینگارین گلشنش روی است و مشکین سایبان ابرو
هلالی شد تنم زین غم که با طغرا‌ی ابرو‌یشکه باشد مه که بنماید ز طاق آسمان ابرو؟
رقیبان غافل و ما را از آن چشم و جبین هر دمهزاران گونه پیغام است و حاجب در میان، ابرو
روان گوشه‌گیران را جبینش طرفه گلزار‌ی‌ستکه بر طرف سمن‌زارش همی گردد چمان ابرو
دگر حور و پری را کس نگوید با چنین حسنیکه این را این چنین چشم است و آن را آن چنان ابرو
تو کافر‌دل نمی‌بندی نقاب زلف و می‌ترسمکه محرابم بگرداند خم آن دل‌ستان ابرو
اگر چه مرغ زیرک بود حافظ در هوادار‌یبه تیر غمزه صیدش کرد چشم آن کمان‌ابرو
Something beautiful has caught your attention so fully that even the clever, careful part of you has been brought down by a single glance. Hafez smiles at this. He knows that messages pass silently between hearts while others notice nothing, and that true beauty makes all comparison fall away. You need not fight what has moved you. Simply keep your prayer-niche, your centre, in its place, and let the delight be a gift rather than a storm.
I have an eye that weeps blood because of that bow-browed one;
the world will see much turmoil from that eye and that eyebrow.
I am the slave of that Turk's eye, who in the sweet sleep of drunkenness
has a painted rose garden for a face and a musky canopy of eyebrows.
My body has become a crescent with this grief: beside the seal of her eyebrow,
who is the moon, to show its eyebrow from the arch of the sky?
The rivals are unaware, while from that eye and forehead every moment
a thousand kinds of message come to us, the eyebrow standing between as chamberlain.
To the souls of the recluses her forehead is a wondrous rose garden,
along whose jasmine borders the eyebrow strolls gracefully.
No one will speak of houris or fairies again beside such beauty,
for she has eyes like these and eyebrows like those.
Faithless heart, you will not fasten the veil of your curl, and I fear
the curve of that heart-stealing eyebrow will turn my prayer-niche around.
Though Hafez was a clever bird in his flight of longing,
the eye of that bow-browed one brought him down with the arrow of a glance.