Hafez · Ghazal 471 · A word from my beloved
ز دلبرم که رساند نوازش قلمیکجاست پیک صبا گر همی کند کرمی؟
قیاس کردم و تدبیر عقل در ره عشقچو شبنمی است که بر بحر می‌کشد رقمی
بیا که خرقه من گرچه رهن میکده‌هاستز مال وقف نبینی به نام من درمی
حدیث چون و چرا درد سر دهد ای دلپیاله گیر و بیاسا ز عمر خویش دمی
طبیب راه‌نشین درد عشق نشناسدبرو به دست کن ای مرده‌دل مسیح‌دمی
دلم گرفت ز سالوس و طبل زیر گلیمبه آن که بر در میخانه برکشم علمی
بیا که وقت‌شناسان دو کون بفروشندبه یک پیاله می صاف و صحبت صنمی
دوام عیش و تنعم نه شیوه عشق استاگر معاشر مایی بنوش نیش غمی
نمی‌کنم گله‌ای لیک ابر رحمت دوستبه کشته‌زار جگرتشنگان نداد نمی
چرا به یک نی قندش نمی‌خرند آن کسکه کرد صد شکرافشانی از نی قلمی
سزای قدر تو شاها به دست حافظ نیستجز از دعای شبی و نیاز صبحدمی
You may be turning a question over and over, asking how and why, and Hafez gently suggests that this only tires the heart. Reason on the road of love, he says, is like a dewdrop trying to write on the sea. Set the questions down for a moment and rest. He also counsels honesty: rather than hiding what you feel, let it be openly and simply known. Look for a healer who understands the heart, not one who only offers easy remedies, and meet each moment with a prayer and a plea.
Who will bring me a kind word written by my beloved's pen?
Where is the courier breeze, if it will do me a kindness?
I have weighed it: the schemes of reason on the road of love
are like a dewdrop writing its mark upon the sea.
Come, for though my cloak is pawned in the wine-houses,
you will not find one coin of the pious endowments spent in my name.
Talk of how and why only gives you a headache, O heart;
take the cup, and rest from your life for a moment.
The roadside doctor does not know the pain of love;
go, you dead-hearted one, and find one with the breath of the Messiah.
I am weary of hypocrisy and of beating the drum under the rug;
better that I raise a banner at the tavern door.
Come, for those who know the worth of the moment would sell both worlds
for one cup of clear wine and the company of a lovely idol.
Lasting pleasure and comfort are not the way of love;
if you are our companion, drink down the sting of grief.
I make no complaint, but the Friend's cloud of mercy
gave not a drop to the field of the thirsty-hearted.
Why will they not pay a single reed of sugar for the one
who scattered a hundred sugars from the reed of his pen?
O king, what befits your worth is not in the hands of Hafez,
except a prayer at night and a plea at dawn.