Ghazal 066 from Divan of Hafez

Let the nightingale lament if it pleases the beloved,
For we are both lovesick and our work is to lament.

In a land where a breeze blows from the beloved's tresses,
What place is there for the scent of Tatar musk?

Bring wine so we can dye our garments with color,
For we are drunk on the cup of pride and the name of sobriety.

Dreaming of your locks is not for every novice,
For to go under the chain is the way of the rogue.

There is a subtle secret from which love arises,
And its name is neither ruby lips nor rust-colored mole.

Beauty is not merely the eyes, hair, complexion, or mole,
There are a thousand subtleties in this matter of lovemaking.

True dervishes would not buy for half a coin,
The satin robe of one who is devoid of art.

To reach your threshold is indeed difficult,
Ascension to the sky of sovereignty is arduous.

At dawn, I saw the charm of your eyes in a dream,
What a level of sleep it was, better than waking.

Do not grieve your heart and conclude, Hafez,
For eternal salvation lies in causing little pain.