Ghazal 43

The garden’s courtyard is delightful and the company of friends is sweet —

may the time of roses be blessed, for the wine-drinkers’ hour is sweet.

From the breeze, each moment, the scent of our soul grows sweet —

yes, yes — the fragrance of the breath of devotees is sweet.

The rose, before unveiling, prepares to depart —

lament, O nightingale, for the cry of the sorrowful is sweet.

Good news to the sweet-singing bird: that on love’s path,

the beloved cherishes the lament of the wakeful nights — sweet.

There is no happiness for sale in the world’s bazaar — but if there is,

the ways of the rend and the gaiety of the vagabonds are sweet.

From the tongue of the free-born lily it reached my ear

that in this old monastery, the work of the light-burdened is sweet.

Hafez! Renouncing the world is the way to happiness —

do not suppose that the condition of the world’s rulers is sweet.