Ghazal 454

From the lane of the beloved comes the breeze of the Nowruz wind —

if you seek aid from this wind, light the lamp of the heart.

Like the rose, if you have a bit of gold, for God's sake spend it on pleasure —

for Qarun was led astray by the delusion of hoarding gold.

From the cup of the rose, the nightingale again is so drunk on ruby wine

that it whistled at the turquoise sky the song of a turquoise throne.

Go to the field, that from your hem you may shake off the dust of grief —

come to the garden, that from the nightingale you may learn ghazal-singing.

Since there is no possibility of eternal life, O heart, in this turquoise hall —

count the opportunity of pleasure as fortune, in victory and well-being.

What is the way of granting desire? Abandoning your own desire —

the cap of sovereignty is this: that you sew it from this abandonment.

I speak in riddles — like the rose, come out of the bud —

for the rule of the King of Nowruz lasts no more than five days.

I do not know what the turtledove's lament is by the streams —

perhaps it too, like me, has a grief night and day.

I have a wine as pure as the soul, and the Sufi faults it —

O God, may no wise one ever have a bad fortune.

Your sweet friend has departed — now sit alone, O candle —

for this is heaven's decree, whether you burn or burn.

By the vanity of learning, one cannot be deprived of the means of joy —

come, cupbearer — for the ignorant one receives his daily bread more pleasantly.

Drink wine in the assembly of Asaf, on the great Nowruz —

for the sip of your cup gives the world the fashion of Nowruz.

It is not Hafez alone who prays for Khajeh Turanshah —

from praising the Asaf, the world desires a feast and a Nowruz.

His threshold is the prayer-niche of heart and eye for the pious —

his brow for the early-risers is the day of victory and triumph.