Hafez · Ghazal 467 · That wine of love
زان می عشق، کز او پخته شود هر خامیگر چه ماه رمضان است بیاور جامی
روزها رفت که دست من مسکین نگرفتزلف شمشادقدی، ساعد سیم‌اندامی
روزه هر چند که مهمان عزیز است ای دلصحبتش موهبتی دان و شدن، انعامی
مرغ زیرک به در خانقه اکنون نپردکه نهاده‌ست به هر مجلس وعظی دامی
گله از زاهد بدخو نکنم؛ رسم این استکه چو صبحی بدمد، در پی‌اش افتد شامی
یار من چون بخرامد به تماشای چمنبرسانش ز من ای پیک صبا پیغامی
آن حریفی که شب و روز می صاف کشدبود آیا که کند یاد ز دردآشامی؟
حافظا گر ندهد داد دلت آصف عهدکام دشوار به دست آوری از خودکامی
Hafez sees everything in its season here: the fast arrives as a welcome guest and leaves as a kindness, and every morning is followed by an evening. Even the sharp words of a disapproving person he takes calmly, as part of the way things turn. If someone has been harsh with you, or a time of restraint has gone on long, let it pass without bitterness. Send your message gently, on the breeze, and remember those who have less. Forcing your wish will only make it harder; patience will ripen it.
Of that wine of love by which every raw one is ripened,
though it is the month of Ramadan, bring me a cup.
Days have passed since my poor hand has held
the curl of one tall as the boxwood, the arm of one with silver limbs.
Though the fast is a dear guest, O heart,
count its company a gift, and its going a kindness.
The clever bird will not fly to the khanqah's door now,
for a snare is laid at every gathering where sermons are preached.
I do not complain of the ill-tempered zahid; this is the custom:
whenever a morning dawns, an evening follows after it.
When my beloved strolls out to look at the meadow,
O courier breeze, carry a message to her from me.
That companion who drinks clear wine night and day,
might he ever remember one who drinks the dregs?
Hafez, if the Asaf of the age does not give your heart its due,
you will find it hard to gain your wish by your own self-will.