Hafez · Ghazal 94 · A thanks, with a complaint
زان یار دل‌نوازم، شکری است با شکایتگر نکته‌دان عشقی، بشنو تو این حکایت
بی‌مزد بود و منت، هر خدمتی که کردمیا رب مباد کس را، مخدوم بی‌عنایت
رندان تشنه‌لب را، آبی نمی‌دهد کسگویی ولی‌شناسان، رفتند از این ولایت
در زلف چون کمندش، ای دل مپیچ کآن جاسرها بریده بینی، بی‌جرم و بی‌جنایت
چشمت به غمزه ما را، خون خورد و می‌پسندیجانا روا نباشد، خون‌ریز را حمایت
در این شب سیاهم، گم گشت راه مقصوداز گوشه‌ای برون آی، ای کوکب هدایت
از هر طرف که رفتم، جز وحشتم نیفزودزنهار از این بیابان، وین راه بی‌نهایت
ای آفتاب خوبان، می‌جوشد اندرونمیک ساعتم بگنجان، در سایه عنایت
این راه را نهایت، صورت کجا توان بست؟کش صد هزار منزل، بیش است در بدایت
هر چند بردی آبم روی از درت نتابمجور از حبیب خوش‌تر، کز مدعی رعایت
عشقت رسد به فریاد، ار خود به سان حافظقرآن ز بر بخوانی، در چارده روایت
You may feel that your efforts have gone unthanked, and that the road ahead is long and dark. Hafez speaks honestly of this, without bitterness: his complaint is wrapped in thanks. In the darkest part of the night he calls on a star of guidance to appear, and so can you. You need not see the end of the road; no one can. Ask for a little shade, a little help, and keep facing the door that matters. Steady love and sincere practice will bring the rescue you need.
Of that heart-soothing friend I have a word of thanks, with a complaint:
if you know the subtleties of love, listen to this story.
Every service that I gave was without reward or thanks:
O Lord, may no one have a master without favour.
No one gives a drop of water to the thirsty rends;
it seems that those who knew the saints have left this land.
Do not get tangled, O heart, in that lasso of her curl, for there
you will see heads cut off with no crime or offence.
Your eye drinks our blood with its glance, and you approve:
beloved, it is not right to shelter the one who sheds blood.
In this dark night of mine, the road to my goal is lost:
come out from some corner, O star of guidance.
Whichever way I went, it only added to my dread:
beware of this desert, and this road without end.
O sun of the fair ones, my heart is boiling inside me:
make room for me for an hour in the shade of your favour.
How can anyone picture the end of this road,
when at its very beginning there are more than a hundred thousand stages?
Though you have taken my honour, I will not turn my face from your door:
cruelty from the beloved is sweeter than courtesy from the pretender.
Your love will come to my rescue if, like Hafez,
you recite the Quran by heart in all its fourteen readings.