Ghazal 367

I have the decree of the Magian elder, and it is an ancient saying:

that wine is forbidden where the friend is not the companion.

I will tear this cloak of hypocrisy — what shall I do? —

for the soul, company with the uncongenial is a painful torment.

In hope that the beloved's lip may sprinkle a sip upon me,

it has been years that I am resident at the tavern's door.

Perhaps my long service has gone from her memory —

O breeze of dawn, remind her of the ancient covenant.

If after a hundred years you pass over my dust,

from my clay, my decayed bones will rise up dancing.

The beloved at first took my heart with a hundred hopes —

apparently noble character does not forget its vow.

Tell the bud: Do not be narrow-hearted from your closed work —

for you will find aid from the breath of dawn and the breezes.

Think of your own improvement, O heart, from another door —

the lover's pain does not improve by the physician's remedy.

Learn the jewel of knowledge, which you may take with you —

for the share of others is the quota of gold and silver.

The trap is tight — unless God's grace becomes your friend —

otherwise Adam does not gain advantage over the accursed Satan.

Hafez, if you have no silver and gold, what of it? Be grateful —

for what is better than the fortune of graceful speech and a sound nature?