Ghazal 414
گلبن عیش می‌دمد ساقی گل‌عذار کو؟
باد بهار می‌وزد بادهٔ خوش‌گوار کو؟
هر گل نو ز گل‌رخی یاد همی کند ولی
گوش سخن‌شنو کجا؟ دیدهٔ اعتبار کو؟
مجلس بزم عیش را غالیهٔ مراد نیست
ای دم صبح خوش‌نفس نافهٔ زلف یار کو؟
حسن‌فروشی گلم نیست تحمل ای صبا
دست زدم به خون دل بهر خدا نگار کو؟
شمع سحرگهی اگر لاف ز عارض تو زد
خصم زبان دراز شد خنجر آبدار کو؟
گفت «مگر ز لعل من بوسه نداری آرزو؟»
مردم از این هوس ولی قدرت و اختیار کو؟
حافظ اگر چه در سخن خازن گنج حکمت است
از غم روزگار دون، طبع سخن‌گزار کو؟
The rose bush of pleasure is in bloom: where is the rose-cheeked cupbearer?
The wind of spring is blowing: where is the pleasant wine?
Every new rose brings to mind one with a face like a rose, but
where is the ear that will hear, where the eye that takes the lesson?
The gathering of pleasure has no perfume of desire;
O sweet-breathed breath of morning, where is the musk of the friend's tress?
I cannot bear the rose's trading on its beauty, east wind;
I have dipped my hand in my heart's blood: for God's sake, where is the beloved?
If the candle of dawn boasted of matching your cheek,
the enemy has grown long-tongued: where is the keen dagger?
He said: "Do you not wish for a kiss from my ruby lip?"
I am dying of that wish, but where are the power and the choice?
Though Hafez, in speech, is the keeper of the treasure of wisdom,
from grief at this base age, where is the mood for making verse?
Everything is ready for happiness, but what would truly make you happy is not there. The chance is passing, and few take the lesson. You know what your heart wants but lack the power and freedom to reach it. The troubles of the time have dulled your zest: this state will pass. Until then, make use of what you have at hand.