Ghazal 430

If you do not drink wine to the song of the nightingale and the turtledove,

how shall I remedy you? The last resort is cautery.

Lay up a store from the color and scent of the spring season —

for the highway robbers of winter and frost are coming from behind.

When the rose cast off its veil and the bird sang its song —

do not put down the cup — what are you doing? Hey, hey!

The splendor of sovereignty and beauty — when did they give constancy?

From the throne of Jam a word remains, and the crown of Kay.

To be the treasurer of the inheritance-eaters is infidelity —

by the decree of minstrel and cupbearer, by the ruling of drum and flute.

Time gives nothing that it does not take back —

seek no generosity from the base one, for its thing is nothing.

They have written on the portico of the Garden of Refuge:

woe to him who bought the coquetry of this world.

Generosity is gone — I will fold up speech — where is the wine?

Give it to the joy of the spirit and soul of Hatim of Tayy.

The miser does not smell the scent of God — come, Hafez —

take the cup and show generosity — and the guarantee is upon Ali.