Poem #12
English Translation
Persian
O light of Beauty's moon, from your bright face it flows!
The well of your chin, where Beauty's water grows.
ای فروغِ ماهِ حُسن، از روی رخشان شما
آبِ‌روی خوبی از چاه زَنَخدان شما
My soul is on my lips, and seeks your face to see; shall it go forth or back?
What is your decree?
عزم دیدار تو دارد جانِ بر لب آمده
باز گردد یا برآید؟ چیست فرمان شما؟
No one found safety's path, where your Narcissus lies;
'tis best to sell no virtue to those drunken eyes.
کَس به دور نرگست طرفی نبست از عافیت
بِه که نفروشند مستوری به مستان شما
My sleepy fortune wakes, perhaps it finds its prize,
since your bright face has splashed water on its eyes.
بخت خواب‌آلود ما بیدار خواهد شد مگر
زان که زد بر دیده آبی، روی رخشان شما
Send with the morning breeze a flower from your cheek,
that from your garden's dust, the scent of love we seek.
با صبا همراه بفرست از رخت گل دسته‌ای
بو که بویی بشنویم از خاک بستان شما
Long life to you, O servers of Jamshid's royal wine!
Though in your time, no cup was filled for me or mine.
عمرتان باد و مراد ای ساقیانِ بزمِ جم
گرچه جام ما نشد پُر مِی به دوران شما
My heart is in ruin now, go tell the Friend my pain!
O friends, my life is yours, bring him to me again!
دل خرابی می‌کند، دلدار را آگه کنید
زینهار ای دوستان، جان من و جان شما
O Lord, when will it be, that these two join as one?
My quiet, gathered mind, your tresses all undone?
کی دهد دست این غرض یا رب که همدستان شوند؟
خاطر مجموع ما، زلف پریشان شما
Keep your skirt from dust and blood,
when passing by our way, for many victims lie there, slain by you today.
دور دار از خاک و خون دامن، چو بر ما بگذری
کَاندَر این ره کشته بسیارند، قربان شما
Hafez prays a prayer, say 'Amen' to the plea:
May your sweet sugar-lips be daily food for me.
می‌کند حافظ دعایی، بشنو، آمینی بگو
روزی ما باد لعل شَکَّرافشان شما
O Breeze, tell Yazd's good folk, from us a word of grace:
the heads of thankless men are balls in your polo chase.
ای صبا با ساکنانِ شهرِ یزد از ما بگو
کِای سر حق‌ناشناسان گوی چوگان شما
Though far from your high court, our spirit is not far;
we praise your King and you, wherever we are.
گرچه دوریم از بساط قُرب، همّت دور نیست
بندهٔ شاه شماییم و ثناخوان شما
O King of high-starred fate, grant me this boon I pray,
to kiss your palace dust, like stars that light the way.
ای شَهنشاه بلند اختر، خدا را همّتی
تا ببوسم همچو اختر خاک ایوان شما
Cultural Context
US Interest Rank: 7/10. This poem is a mix of love poetry and panegyric (praise of a ruler). The first half addresses the Beloved with standard imagery (moon, narcissus, chin-well). The second half shifts to praising the people of Yazd and their King (likely Shah Yahya), asking for patronage. The 'polo ball' metaphor implies the King's power over his enemies.
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