Ghazal 84

ساقی بیار باده که ماه صیام رفت
درده قدح که موسم ناموس و نام رفت

وقت عزیز رفت بیا تا قضا کنیم
عمری که بی حضور صراحی و جام رفت

مستم کن آن چنان که ندانم ز بی‌خودی
در عرصهٔ خیال که آمد، کدام رفت

بر بوی آن که جرعهٔ جامت به ما رسد
در مصطبه دعای تو هر صبح و شام رفت

دل را که مرده بود حیاتی به جان رسید
تا بویی از نسیم می‌اش در مشام رفت

زاهد غرور داشت، سلامت نبرد راه
رند از ره نیاز به دارالسلام رفت

نقد دلی که بود مرا صرف باده شد
قلب سیاه بود از آن در حرام رفت

در تاب توبه چند توان سوخت همچو عود؟
می ده که عمر در سر سودای خام رفت

دیگر مکن نصیحت حافظ که ره نیافت
گمگشته‌ای که بادهٔ نابش به کام رفت

Cupbearer, bring wine, for the month of fasting is gone;
pass the cup, for the season of name and reputation is gone.

Precious time is gone; come, let us make up
for a life that went by without flask and cup.

Make me so drunk that, out of my senses, I do not know
who came into the field of thought and who is gone.

In hope that a draught from your cup might reach us,
a prayer for you rose from the tavern bench every dawn and dusk.

The heart that was dead received life in its soul
once a scent of the breeze of that wine reached its sense.

The ascetic had pride and did not find the road to safety;
the rend went by the road of need to the abode of peace.

The coin of the heart that I had was spent on wine;
it was false coin, and so it went on what is forbidden.

How long can one burn like aloe wood in the heat of repentance?
Give wine, for life is gone in pursuit of raw fancies.

Give Hafez no more advice, for he has not found the road,
the lost one whose palate has tasted the pure wine.