Poem #214
English Translation
Persian
In sweet dreams I saw a wine cup resting in my hand
interpretation led my fate to fortune's promised land.
دیدم به خوابِ خوش که به دستم پیاله بود
تعبیر رفت و کار به دولت حواله بود
Forty years of grief and hardship did we bear, until at last
our remedy was placed in two-year-old wine's steadfast grasp.
چل سال رنج و غصّه کشیدیم و عاقبت
تدبیرِ ما به دستِ شرابِ دوساله بود
That musk-pouch of desire I sought from fortune's liberality
was hidden in the musky curls of that crowned idol's beauty.
آن نافهٔ مراد که می‌خواستم ز بخت
در چینِ زلفِ آن بتِ مشکین کُلاله بود
At dawn, grief's hangover had left me utterly undone
fortune smiled, and wine appeared within the waiting cup anon.
از دست برده بود خمارِ غمم سحر
دولت مساعد آمد و مِی در پیاله بود
Forever on the tavern's threshold I drink blood like wine
this morsel is my daily bread from fate's predestined shrine.
بر آستانِ میکده خون می‌خورم مدام
روزیِّ ما ز خوانِ قَدَر این نَواله بود
Whoever failed to plant love's seed or pluck beauty's rose with care
became but guardian of tulips in the wind's empty thoroughfare.
هر کو نکاشت مِهر و ز خوبی گُلی نچید
در رهگذارِ باد نگهبانِ لاله بود
At dawn I passed beside my rose garden's fragrant edge
just when the dawn bird's only work was sighing from its ledge.
بر طَرْفِ گلشنم گذر افتاد وقتِ صبح
آن دَم که کارِ مرغِ سحر آه و ناله بود
We've seen Hafez's heart-stealing verse in praise of the king stand tall
one line from this ode outweighs a hundred treatises in all.
دیدیم شعرِ دلکش حافظ به مدحِ شاه
یک بیت از این قصیده به از صد رساله بود
That fierce-charging king before whom the lion-seizing sun itself
on battle's day, seemed nothing more than a gazelle upon the shelf.
آن شاهِ تندحمله که خورشیدِ شیرگیر
پیشش به روزِ معرکه کمتر غزاله بود
Cultural Context
US Interest Rank: 7/10. This poem expresses reflection and praise. The verse about bearing 'hardship and grief' for 'forty years' and finally the management being 'to the hand of wine, two-year-old' is a striking statement. The observation that everyone who didn't plant love became 'the guardian of the tulip' in 'the path of the wind' is a poignant statement. The poem's combination of reflection and praise makes it engaging.
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