Ghazal 197
شاهدان گر دلبری زین سان کنند
زاهدان را رخنه در ایمان کنند
هر کجا آن شاخ نرگس بشکفد
گل‌رخانش دیده نرگس‌دان کنند
ای جوان سروقد! گویی ببر
پیش از آن کز قامتت چوگان کنند
عاشقان را بر سر خود حکم نیست
هر چه فرمان تو باشد آن کنند
پیش چشمم کمتر است از قطره‌ای
این حکایت‌ها که از طوفان کنند
یار ما چون گیرد آغاز سماع
قدسیان بر عرش دست‌افشان کنند
مردم چشمم به خون آغشته شد
در کجا این ظلم بر انسان کنند؟
خوش برآ با غصه، ای دل! کاهل راز
عیش خوش در بوتهٔ هجران کنند
سر مکش حافظ ز آه نیم‌شب
تا چو صبحت، آینه رخشان کنند
If the beauties go on stealing hearts in this way,
they will make a breach in the faith of the ascetics.
Wherever that branch of narcissus comes into bloom,
the rose-cheeked make their own eyes its vase.
O youth of cypress stature, carry off the ball
before they make a polo stick of your stature.
Lovers have no authority over themselves;
whatever your command may be, that they do.
In my eyes they are less than a single drop,
these stories that they tell about the Flood.
When our friend begins the whirling dance,
the holy ones on the Throne clap and wave their hands.
The pupil of my eye is steeped in blood;
where else do they do such wrong to a human being?
Get on well with grief, O heart, for the people of the secret
find sweet pleasure in the crucible of separation.
Do not turn away, Hafez, from the midnight sigh,
so that they make your mirror shine like the morning.
Make the most of your youth and strength, and win your prize before your back is bent. Your sorrow looms large in your own eyes, but come to terms with it: the heart is refined and purified in the crucible of separation. Do not give up your midnight prayers, so that your heart may grow bright. In matters of love, be willing to follow rather than wilful.