Hafez · Ghazal 468 · A beggar's message to the kings
که برد به نزد شاهان ز من گدا پیامی؟که به کوی می‌فروشان دو هزار جم به جامی
شده‌ام خراب و بدنام و هنوز امیدوارمکه به همت عزیزان برسم به نیک‌نامی
تو که کیمیافروشی نظری به قلب ما کنکه بضاعتی نداریم و فکنده‌ایم دامی
عجب از وفای جانان که عنایتی نفرمودنه به نامه‌ای پیامی نه به خامه‌ای سلامی
اگر این شراب خام است اگر آن حریف پختهبه هزار بار بهتر ز هزار پخته خامی
ز رهم میفکن ای شیخ به دانه‌های تسبیحکه چو مرغ، زیرک افتد نفتد به هیچ دامی
سر خدمت تو دارم بخرم به لطف و مفروشکه چو بنده کمتر افتد به مبارکی غلامی
به کجا برم شکایت؟ به که گویم این حکایت؟که لبت حیات ما بود و نداشتی دوامی
بگشای تیر مژگان و بریز خون حافظکه چنان کشنده‌ای را نکند کس انتقامی
Hafez admits he has made a mess of things in the eyes of the world, and yet he says, simply, that he still hopes. He asks the alchemist for one glance that could turn base metal into gold. Perhaps you feel your record is not what you wish it were. This ghazal tells you that a single kind look, a little grace from those who care for you, can change more than years of effort. Keep your own path, do not be lured by empty show, and let hope stay alive.
Who will carry a message from me, a beggar, to the kings:
that in the wine-sellers' lane two thousand Jamshids are worth one cup?
I have become ruined and ill-famed, and still I hope
that through the grace of dear ones I will reach a good name.
You who deal in alchemy, cast a glance at our counterfeit heart,
for we have no stock in trade, and yet we have laid a snare.
I wonder at the beloved's faithfulness, who showed no kindness:
no message in a letter, no greeting from a pen.
Whether this wine is raw or that companion seasoned,
one raw thing is a thousand times better than a thousand ripe ones.
Do not lure me from my path, O sheikh, with the beads of your rosary,
for when a bird is clever it falls into no snare.
I long to serve you; buy me with kindness and do not sell me,
for a servant like me, a blessed one, is seldom found.
Where shall I take my complaint? To whom shall I tell this tale:
that your lip was our life, and it did not last?
Loose the arrows of your lashes and spill the blood of Hafez,
for no one takes revenge on such a killer.