By hamed on October 17, 2024
Ghazal 064 from Divan of Hafez
Though it's rude to display one's skills before the beloved,
My tongue is silent, yet my heart is full of Arabic verse.
A fairy hides her face, and a devil lurks in her beauty's charm;
My eyes burn in wonder at this strange paradox.
In this garden, a thornless rose has never been plucked, truly;
The light of the Prophet is combined with the flame of a lowly lamp.
Don't ask why the heavens nurture the lowly,
For giving pleasure to them is a baseless excuse.
For half a grain, I would not exchange my place in a tavern or caravanserai,
For me, a bench in the courtyard and the foot of a wine jug is enough.
The beauty of the rose-faced maiden is the light of our eyes, perhaps,
Hidden behind a glass veil and a grape-colored curtain.
I had a thousand wits and manners, O master,
Now that I am a drunken wretch, rudeness is appropriate.
Bring me wine, for Hafez has a thousand complaints,
From the morning's tears to the midnight's plea.