Hafez · Ghazal 413 · The eyebrow of the Friend
خط عذار یار که بگرفت ماه از اوخوش حلقه‌ای‌ست لیک به در نیست راه از او
ابروی دوست گوشه محراب دولت استآن جا بمال چهره و حاجت بخواه از او
ای جرعه‌نوش مجلس جم! سینه پاک دارکآیینه‌ای‌ست جام جهان‌بین که آه از او
کردار اهل صومعه‌ام کرد می‌پرستاین دود بین که نامه من شد سیاه از او
سلطان غم هر آن چه تواند بگو بکنمن برده‌ام به باده‌فروشان پناه از او
ساقی چراغ می به ره آفتاب دارگو بر فروز مشعله صبحگاه از او
آبی به روزنامه اعمال ما فشانباشد توان سترد حروف گناه از او
حافظ که ساز مطرب عشاق ساز کردخالی مباد عرصه این بزمگاه از او
آیا در این خیال که دارد گدای شهرروزی بود که یاد کند پادشاه از او؟
There is a place where you may bring your need openly, and Hafez tells you to go there, bow your head, and ask. Keep your heart clear as a mirror, so that what you hope for can be seen in it. If grief is pressing on you, you are allowed to take refuge in simple joys, in good company and morning light. A little water can wash old marks from the page. And yes, even the humblest hope may one day be remembered by the one it longs for.
The down on the beloved's cheek, which has eclipsed the moon,
is a lovely ring, but there is no way out of it.
The Friend's eyebrow is the corner of the prayer-niche of fortune:
rub your face there and ask it for what you need.
O you who drink the dregs at Jamshid's feast, keep your breast clean,
for the world-seeing cup is a mirror, and a sigh will cloud it.
The deeds of the cloister folk have made me a wine-worshipper;
see this smoke, which has turned my record black.
Let the sultan of grief do all he can;
I have taken refuge from him with the wine-sellers.
Saqi, hold up the lamp of wine in the path of the sun;
tell it to light the morning torch from that.
Sprinkle a little water on the record of our deeds;
perhaps it will wash away the letters of sin.
Hafez, who has tuned the minstrel's lute for lovers:
may the floor of this feast never be empty of him.
In this fancy that the city's beggar holds,
will there come a day when the king remembers him?