Ghazal 415

O messenger of the truthful, tell the news of our beloved —

tell the nightingale of melodies the state of the rose.

We are intimates of the chamber of closeness — do not grieve —

with the familiar friend, speak a familiar word.

When those musk-raining tips of tresses were tangling together —

what did she have in mind with us? — tell, for God's sake.

Whoever said: The dust of the friend's door is collyrium —

tell him: Speak this word plainly before our eyes.

That one who forbids us from the tavern —

tell him: In the presence of my elder, tell this story.

If again you pass by that door of fortune,

after performing service and offering prayers, tell.

Though we have been bad, do not take us as bad —

in kingly fashion, tell the story of the beggar's sin.

To this poor one, read the letter of that great one —

to this beggar, tell the tale of that king.

When she shakes lives from the trap of her tresses to the ground —

what happened to our stranger? O breeze, tell.

The tale of the people of gnosis is life-nourishing —

go ask a riddle, come tell a tale.

Hafez, if they give you entrance to her assembly,

drink wine and for God's sake, speak of abandoning deceit.