Hafez · Ghazal 482 · O heart, you never pass love's lane
ای دل! به کوی عشق گذاری نمی‌کنیاسباب جمع داری و کاری نمی‌کنی
چوگان حکم در کف و گویی نمی‌زنیباز ظفر به دست و شکاری نمی‌کنی
این خون که موج می‌زند اندر جگر تو رادر کار رنگ و بوی نگاری نمی‌کنی
مشکین از آن نشد دم خلقت که چون صبابر خاک کوی دوست گذاری نمی‌کنی
ترسم کز این چمن نبری آستین گلکز گلشنش تحمل خاری نمی‌کنی
در آستین جان تو صد نافه مدرج استوآن را فدای طره یاری نمی‌کنی
ساغر لطیف و دلکش و می، افکنی به خاکواندیشه از بلای خماری نمی‌کنی
حافظ برو که بندگی پادشاه وقتگر جمله می‌کنند، تو باری نمی‌کنی
This ghazal is a loving nudge. Hafez tells his own heart that it holds everything it needs, the mallet in its hand and the falcon on its wrist, and yet it does not act. Perhaps your question is about something you have been putting off. You may have more resources, more gifts and more courage than you are using. Roses come with a thorn or two; accept that, and step into the garden. What you have been saving in your sleeve is meant to be spent on what you love.
O heart, you never pass by the lane of love;
you have every means at hand, and yet you do nothing.
The mallet of command is in your hand, and you strike no ball;
the falcon of victory is on your wrist, and you make no catch.
This blood that surges in your heart
you never spend on the colour and scent of a beloved.
Your breath has not become fragrant with musk because, like the breeze,
you never pass over the dust of the Friend's lane.
I fear you will not carry a sleeve full of roses from this meadow,
for you will not bear a single thorn from its rose garden.
In the sleeve of your soul a hundred musk-pods lie folded,
and you will not give them up for a beloved's curl.
You pour the delicate, charming cup and its wine on the ground,
and give no thought to the trouble of the morning after.
Hafez, go: the service of the king of the age,
even if everyone else performs it, you, at least, do not.