At dawn, the nightingale told a tale to the morning breeze, Ghazal 130 by Hafez

By @admin | poet: Hafez Shirazi | 4 4

Description:

English Translation:

At dawn, the nightingale told a tale to the morning breeze,
Of how the love of the rose's face has done to us.

From that color of her face, blood fell into my heart,
And from that rose garden, I became entangled with a thorn.

I am a slave to the spirit of that beloved,
Who did good deeds without show or hypocrisy.

I will not complain about strangers anymore,
For whatever they did to me, my familiar did.

If I had hope from the sultan, it was a mistake,
And if I sought loyalty from the beloved, it was cruelty.

Blessed is that morning breeze,
Which healed the pain of night-sitters.

It pulled back the rose’s veil and the hyacinth curl,
And untied the knot of the bud’s robe.

In every direction, the love-sick nightingale is wailing,
And the morning breeze finds pleasure in the midst of it.

Give tidings to the tavern-keepers,
That Hafez has repented of hypocritical asceticism.

Loyalty from the city's noblemen has brought me
The pinnacle of wealth and pious devotion.