Hafez · Ghazal 47 · Whoever knew the road to the tavern
به کوی میکده هر سالکی که ره دانستدری دگر زدن اندیشه تبه دانست
زمانه افسر رندی نداد جز به کسیکه سرفرازی عالم در این کله دانست
بر آستانه میخانه هر که یافت رهیز فیض جام می اسرار خانقه دانست
هر آن که راز دو عالم ز خط ساغر خواندرموز جام جم از نقش خاک ره دانست
ورای طاعت دیوانگان ز ما مطلبکه شیخ مذهب ما عاقلی گنه دانست
دلم ز نرگس ساقی امان نخواست به جانچرا که شیوه آن ترک دل سیه دانست
ز جور کوکب طالع ،سحرگهان چشممچنان گریست که ناهید دید و مه دانست
حدیث حافظ و ساغر که می‌زند پنهانچه جای محتسب و شحنه، پادشه دانست
بلندمرتبه شاهی که نه رواق سپهرنمونه‌ای ز خم طاق بارگه دانست
Once you have found the right door, Hafez says, there is no need to go knocking at others. You may already know, deep down, where your path lies; trust that knowledge and stay with it. He adds that wisdom often comes from humble places: the secrets of Jamshid's cup can be read in the dust of the road. If you have shed quiet tears over your fortune, they have been seen. Those who matter understand more than you think. Be steady, and keep to the threshold you have chosen.
Every wayfarer who knew the road to the tavern's lane
knew that knocking at another door was a ruinous thought.
Time gave the crown of rendi to no one
but the one who knew that the world's glory lay in this cap.
Whoever found a way to the tavern's threshold
learned the secrets of the Sufi lodge from the bounty of the cup.
Whoever read the secret of the two worlds in the lines of the goblet
learned the mysteries of Jamshid's cup from the prints in the dust of the road.
Ask nothing of us beyond the obedience of madmen,
for the shaykh of our creed held sanity to be a sin.
My heart did not ask the saqi's narcissus eye to spare its life,
for it knew the ways of that black-hearted Turk.
Because of the cruelty of my birth star, at dawn my eyes
wept so that Venus saw it and the moon knew.
The tale of Hafez and the cup he drinks in secret,
never mind the morals officer and the constable: the king knew it.
A king of such high rank that he held the nine porticoes of the sky
to be a mere copy of the curve of his court's arch.