Ghazal 376: Friends, in the season of the rose it is best that we strive after pleasure

دوستان وقت گل آن به که به عشرت کوشیم
سخن اهل دل است این و به جان بنیوشیم

نیست در کس کرم و وقت طرب می‌گذرد
چاره آن است که سجاده به می بفروشیم

خوش هوایی‌ست فرح‌بخش خدایا بفرست
نازنینی که به رویش می گل‌گون نوشیم

ارغنون ساز فلک ره‌زن اهل هنر است
چون از این غصه ننالیم و چرا نخروشیم؟

گل به جوش آمد و از می نزدیمش آبی
لاجرم زآتش حرمان و هوس می‌جوشیم

می‌کشیم از قدح لاله شرابی موهوم
چشم بد دور که بی‌مطرب و می مدهوشیم

حافظ این حال عجب با که توان گفت که ما
بلبلانیم که در موسم گل خاموشیم

Friends, in the season of the rose it is best that we strive after pleasure;
this is the word of people of heart, and let us listen to it with our souls.

There is no generosity in anyone, and the time for joy is passing;
the remedy is that we sell the prayer mat for wine.

The air is pleasant and gladdening: O God, send
a delicate one to whose face we may drink rose-red wine.

The sky, that tuner of the organ, is the waylayer of people of skill;
how should we not groan at this grief, and why should we not cry out?

The rose has come to the boil, and we have not sprinkled it with wine;
and so we are seething with the fire of deprivation and desire.

We are drinking an imagined wine from the cup of the tulip;
may the evil eye be far, for without minstrel and wine we are out of our senses.

Hafez, to whom can this strange state be told, that we
are nightingales who are silent in the season of the rose?