From the Divan of Hafez · 9 couplets
...
The one from whose hyacinth-tresses musk-paste takes its curl
again shows coquetry and reproach to the heart-lost ones.
You pass over the head of your slain one like the wind —
what can be done? Life is brief and moves with haste.
That moon of sunlike radiance, behind the veil of tresses —
is a sun that holds a cloud before it.
My eye sent floods of tears streaming to every corner
so that your slender cypress may have fresher water.
Your bold glance spills my blood in error —
may it have leisure, for it has a fine sense of the right.
If the Water of Life is what the beloved's lip possesses,
then it is clear that Khizr's portion is but a mirage.
Your hungover eye intends to make a liver of my heart —
perhaps the drunken Turk has a craving for kebab.
My sick soul has no face to ask of you —
how blessed is the wounded one who has an answer from the friend.
When will she cast a glance toward the broken heart of Hafez? —
that drunken eye of hers, which in every corner holds a ruin.
آن که از سُنبُلِ او، غالیه تابی دارد
باز با دلشدگان ناز و عِتابی دارد
از سَرِ کُشتهٔ خود میگذری همچون باد
چه توان کرد؟ که عمر است و شتابی دارد
ماهِ خورشید نُمایَش ز پسِ پردهٔ زلف
آفتابیست که در پیش سَحابی دارد
چشمِ من کرد به هر گوشه روان سیلِ سرشک
تا سَهی سَروِ تو را تازهتر آبی دارد
غمزهٔ شوخِ تو خونم به خطا میریزد
فرصتش باد که خوش فکر صوابی دارد
آب حَیوان اگر این است که دارد لبِ دوست
روشن است این که خِضِر بهره سرابی دارد
چشمِ مخمورِ تو دارد ز دلم قصدِ جگر
تُرک مست است مگر میلِ کبابی دارد
جانِ بیمارِ مرا نیست ز تو روی سؤال
ای خوش آن خسته که از دوست جوابی دارد
کِی کُنَد سویِ دلِ خستهٔ حافظ نظری
چشمِ مستش که به هر گوشه خرابی دارد
Source: Ganjoor.net
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