Hafez · Ghazal 64 · My mouth is full of words
اگر چه عرض هنر پیش یار بی‌ادبی‌ستزبان خموش، ولیکن دهان پر از عربی‌ست
پری نهفته رخ و دیو در کرشمه حسنبسوخت دیده ز حیرت که این چه بوالعجبی‌ست
در این چمن گل بی خار کس نچید، آریچراغ مصطفوی با شرار بولهبی‌ست
سبب مپرس که چرخ از چه سفله‌پرور شدکه کام‌بخشی او را بهانه بی‌سببی‌ست
به نیم جو نخرم طاق خانقاه و رباطمرا که مصطبه ایوان و پای خم طنبی‌ست
جمال دختر رز، نور چشم ماست مگرکه در نقاب زجاجی و پرده عنبی‌ست
هزار عقل و ادب داشتم من ای خواجهکنون که مست خرابم، صلاح بی‌ادبی‌ست
بیار می که چو حافظ هزارم استظهاربه گریه سحری و نیاز نیم‌شبی‌ست
You may have much you want to say, and much that feels unfair in how the world rewards people. Hafez admits it: roses come with thorns, and fortune often favours without reason. He does not waste himself arguing with the sky. Instead he keeps his words in his mouth, finds his own quiet place, and puts his trust in the honest prayer of the small hours. Let go of proving yourself. What you ask for sincerely, at dawn and at midnight, is not lost.
Though displaying one's skill before the beloved is ill-mannered,
my tongue is silent, but my mouth is full of eloquence.
The fairy hides her face, while the demon flaunts its coquetry of beauty:
my eyes have burned with bewilderment: what a marvel is this?
In this meadow no one has picked a rose without a thorn; yes,
the lamp of the Prophet stands beside the spark of Abu Lahab.
Do not ask why the wheel of heaven came to favour the base,
for its only excuse for granting wishes is that it has no reason.
I would not give half a barleycorn for the arch of the Sufi lodge or hostel,
I whose portico is the tavern bench and whose hall the foot of the wine-jar.
The beauty of the daughter of the vine is the light of our eyes, perhaps
because she wears a veil of glass and a curtain of grape.
I had a thousand kinds of sense and manners, sir;
now that I am drunk and ruined, ill manners are the proper course.
Bring wine, for like Hafez, I place a thousandfold reliance
on the weeping of dawn and the plea of midnight.