Ghazal 383

From the Divan of Hafez · 6 couplets

The Oracle Speaks

...

However much I spoke of grief to physicians,

they did not cure this poor stranger.

That rose which every moment is in the hand of the wind —

tell it: May it be ashamed before the nightingales.

O Lord, grant safety, that once more

the eyes of lovers may see the face of beloveds.

The casket of love is not sealed upon itself —

O Lord, may the desire of rivals never be fulfilled.

O bountiful one, after all, at the table of your generosity,

how long shall we be among the deprived?

Hafez, you would not have gone mad for the world

if you had heard the counsel of the wise.

چندان که گفتم غم با طبیبان

درمان نکردند مسکین غریبان

آن گل که هر دم در دست بادیست

گو شرم بادش از عندلیبان

یا رب امان ده تا بازبیند

چشم محبان روی حبیبان

درج محبت بر مهر خود نیست

یا رب مبادا کام رقیبان

ای منعم آخر بر خوان جودت

تا چند باشیم از بی نصیبان

حافظ نگشتی شیدای گیتی

گر می‌شنیدی پند ادیبان

Source: Ganjoor.net

Reflect on This Poem

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  • Which line stirred something in you — comfort, longing, or unease?
  • What question were you holding when you arrived at this page?
  • What is this poem asking you to release or embrace?

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