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Persiahaus

Hafez · Ghazal 56 · The heart is love's pavilion

دل سراپرده محبت اوستدیده آیینه‌دار طلعت اوست

من که سر در نیاورم به دو کونگردنم زیر بار منت اوست

تو و طوبی و ما و قامت یارفکر هر کس به قدر همت اوست

گر من آلوده‌دامنم چه عجبهمه عالم گواه عصمت اوست

من که باشم در آن حرم که صباپرده‌دار حریم حرمت اوست

بی خیالش مباد منظر چشمزآن که این گوشه جای خلوت اوست

هر گل نو که شد چمن‌آرایز اثر رنگ و بوی صحبت اوست

دور مجنون گذشت و نوبت ماستهر کسی پنج روز، نوبت اوست

ملکت عاشقی و گنج طربهر چه دارم ز یمن همت اوست

من و دل گر فدا شدیم چه باک؟غرض اندر میان سلامت اوست

فقر ظاهر مبین که حافظ راسینه گنجینه محبت اوست

The faal · love

Your heart is a pavilion where love lives, and your eyes are the mirror that holds its face. Hafez reminds you that each person's thoughts rise only as high as their aspiration, so set yours on what you truly love. Every rose in the meadow owes its colour to that presence. Majnun had his days; now it is your turn, and every turn is short, so live it fully. Whatever your outward circumstances, do not judge yourself by them. A heart full of love is a treasure-house.

The ghazal in English

The heart is the pavilion of her love;
the eye is the mirror held up to her face.

I, who will not bow my head to the two worlds,
carry on my neck the weight of her kindness.

You and the Tuba tree, we and the beloved's stature:
each one's thought is in measure with their aspiration.

If my hem is stained, what wonder?
The whole world is witness to her purity.

Who am I, in that sanctuary where the breeze
keeps the curtain of the precinct of her honour?

May the window of my eye never be without her image,
for this corner is the place of her retreat.

Every fresh rose that came to adorn the meadow
bears the colour and scent of her company.

Majnun's time has passed, and now it is our turn;
each has a turn of five days.

The kingdom of loverhood and the treasure of joy:
all I have comes from the blessing of her grace.

If I and my heart are given up, what of it?
The aim in it all is her well-being.

Do not look at the outward poverty, for Hafez's
breast is the treasure-house of her love.

Translation: Persiahaus Editors [Draft]