Ghazal 465

I went to the garden at dawn to pick a rose —

suddenly the song of a nightingale reached my ear.

Poor thing — like me, it had become captive to the love of a rose —

and in the garden it had raised a clamor with its cry.

I was wandering in that garden, moment by moment —

I was contemplating that rose and nightingale.

The rose became the companion of beauty, and the nightingale the partner of love —

neither that one showing favor, nor this one changing.

When the nightingale's song made its effect on my heart,

I became such that no patience remained in me.

Many a rose blooms in this garden — but

no one has picked a rose from it without the thorn's affliction.

Hafez, do not hold hope of relief from the turning of the sky —

it has a thousand faults and shows no favor.