Ghazal 297

زبان خامه ندارد سر بیان فراق
وگرنه شرح دهم با تو داستان فراق

دریغ مدت عمرم که بر امید وصال
به سر رسید و نیامد به سر زمان فراق

سری که بر سر گردون به فخر می‌سودم
به راستان که نهادم، بر آستان فراق

چگونه باز کنم بال در هوای وصال
که ریخت مرغ دلم پر در آشیان فراق

کنون چه چاره که در بحر غم به گردابی
فتاد زورق صبرم ز بادبان فراق

بسی نماند که کشتی عمر غرقه شود
ز موج شوق تو در بحر بی‌کران فراق

اگر به دست من افتد فراق را بکشم
که روز هجر سیه باد و خان و مان فراق

رفیق خیل خیالیم و همنشین شکیب
قرین آتش هجران و هم قران فراق

چگونه دعوی وصلت کنم به جان؟ که شده‌ست
تنم وکیل قضا و دلم ضمان فراق

ز سوز شوق دلم شد کباب دور از یار
مدام خون جگر می‌خورم ز خوان فراق

فلک چو دید سرم را اسیر چنبر عشق
ببست گردن صبرم به ریسمان فراق

به پای شوق گر این ره به سر شدی حافظ
به دست هجر ندادی کسی عنان فراق

The tongue of the pen has no will to give an account of separation;
otherwise I would set out for you the whole story of separation.

Alas for the span of my life, which in the hope of union
came to its end, while the time of separation did not come to an end.

The head that in pride I used to rub against the top of the sky,
by all the righteous, I have laid on the threshold of separation.

How am I to open my wings in the air of union,
when the bird of my heart has shed its feathers in the nest of separation?

What remedy is there now, when in the sea of grief the boat of my patience
has fallen into a whirlpool under the sail of separation?

Little remains before the ship of my life is sunk
by the wave of longing for you in the shoreless sea of separation.

If separation should fall into my hands, I would kill it;
black be the day of parting, and the house and home of separation!

We are comrades of the troops of fancy and sit together with patience,
companions of the fire of parting and close neighbours of separation.

How can I lay claim to union with my life, when
my body has become the agent of fate and my heart the surety of separation?

From the burning of longing my heart has been roasted, far from the friend;
I am forever eating the blood of my liver at the table of separation.

When the sky saw my head a captive in the hoop of love,
it bound the neck of my patience with the rope of separation.

If this road could be travelled to its end on the foot of longing, Hafez,
no one would have given the reins of separation into the hand of parting.