Hafez · Ghazal 68 · My moon left this week
ماهم این هفته برون رفت و به چشمم سالی‌ستحال هجران تو چه دانی که چه مشکل حالی‌ست؟
مردم دیده ز لطف رخ او در رخ اوعکس خود دید، گمان برد که مشکین خالی‌ست
می‌چکد شیر هنوز از لب هم‌چون شکرشگر چه در شیوه‌گری هر مژه‌اش قتالی‌ست
ای که انگشت‌نمایی به کرم در همه شهروه که در کار غریبان، عجبت اهمالی‌ست
بعد از اینم نبود شائبه در جوهر فردکه دهان تو در این نکته خوش استدلالی‌ست
مژده دادند که بر ما گذری خواهی کردنیت خیر مگردان که مبارک فالی‌ست
کوه اندوه فراقت به چه حالت بکشد؟حافظ خسته که از ناله تنش چون نالی‌ست
A short absence can feel like a year, and you may be counting the days until someone or something returns. Hafez knows the ache of waiting, yet this ghazal turns towards good news: word has come that the beloved will pass this way. He asks only that this kind intention not change, and calls it a blessed omen. Hold to that. Speak gently to the one you are waiting for, remind them of your bond, and trust that a meeting is nearer than it feels.
My moon went away this week, and to my eyes it has been a year:
what do you know of separation from you, how hard a state it is?
The pupil of the eye, in the brightness of her face,
saw its own reflection and thought it was a musk-dark mole.
Milk still drips from her sugar-sweet lip,
though in her ways each eyelash of hers is a killer.
You who are pointed out in all the city for your generosity,
how strange your neglect of the affairs of strangers!
From now on I have no doubt about the indivisible atom,
for your mouth is a fine proof on this point.
They brought the good news that you will pass our way:
do not change that good intention, for it is a blessed omen.
How can he bear the mountain of grief at your absence,
weary Hafez, whose body from lament has grown thin as a reed?