Hafez · Ghazal 477 · Two clever friends
دو یار زیرک و از باده کهن دو منیفراغتی و کتابی و گوشه چمنی
من این مقام به دنیا و آخرت ندهماگر چه در پی‌ام افتند هر دم انجمنی
هر آن که کنج قناعت به گنج دنیا دادفروخت یوسف مصری به کمترین ثمنی
بیا که رونق این کارخانه کم نشودبه زهد همچو تویی، یا به فسق همچو منی
ز تندباد حوادث نمی‌توان دیدندر این چمن که گلی بوده است یا سمنی
ببین در آینه جام، نقش‌بندی غیبکه کس به یاد ندارد چنین عجب زمنی
از این سموم که بر طرف بوستان بگذشتعجب که بوی گلی هست و رنگ نسترنی
به صبر کوش تو ای دل که حق رها نکندچنین عزیز نگینی به دست اهرمنی
مزاج دهر تبه شد در این بلا حافظکجاست فکر حکیمی و رای برهمنی؟
Hafez paints a picture of simple happiness: two good friends, an old wine, a book, some free time and a corner of a garden. He would not trade it for anything. Even when the times feel turbulent, he notices that some roses keep their scent through the hot wind. If the world around you seems unsettled, return to what is quietly enough: good company, something worth reading, a little peace. Be patient; what is precious will not be left in the wrong hands for long. Contentment is a treasure in itself.
Two clever friends, and two measures of old wine,
leisure, a book, and a corner of the meadow:
I would not give this station for this world or the next,
though a crowd should come after me every moment.
Whoever traded the corner of contentment for the treasure of the world
sold the Egyptian Joseph for the meanest price.
Come, for the splendour of this workshop will not grow less
through the piety of one like you or the sin of one like me.
Because of the fierce wind of events, no one can see
that in this meadow there was ever a rose or a jasmine.
See in the mirror of the cup the painter's work of the Unseen,
for no one remembers so strange a time as this.
After this scorching wind that swept across the garden,
it is a wonder that a rose still has its scent, or the wild rose its colour.
Strive for patience, O heart, for God will not leave
so precious a seal-stone in the hand of a demon.
The temper of the age has been ruined in this calamity, Hafez;
where is the thought of a sage, the judgment of a Brahmin?