Ghazal 153: At dawn, when the king of the east planted his banner on the mountains

سحر چون خسرو خاور، علم بر کوهساران زد
به دست مرحمت، یارم، در امیدواران زد

چو پیش صبح روشن شد که حال مهر گردون چیست
برآمد خنده‌ای خوش بر غرور کامگاران زد

نگارم دوش در مجلس، به عزم رقص چون برخاست
گره بگشود از گیسو و بر دل‌های یاران زد

من از رنگ صلاح آن دم، به خون دل بشستم دست
که چشم باده پیمایش صلا بر هوشیاران زد

کدام آهن‌دلش آموخت این آیین عیاری؟
کز اول چون برون آمد، ره شب‌زنده‌داران زد

خیال شهسواری پخت و شد ناگه دل مسکین
خداوندا! نگه دارش که بر قلب سواران زد

در آب و رنگ رخسارش، چه جان دادیم و خون خوردیم
چو نقشش دست داد اول، رقم بر جان‌سپاران زد

منش با خرقهٔ پشمین، کجا اندر کمند آرم؟
زره‌مویی که مژگانش ره خنجرگزاران زد

نظر بر قرعهٔ توفیق و یمن دولت شاه است
بده کام دل حافظ که فال بختیاران زد

شهنشاه مظفر فر، شجاع ملک و دین منصور
که جود بی‌دریغش خنده بر ابر بهاران زد

از آن ساعت که جام می به دست او مشرف شد
زمانه ساغر شادی به یاد می‌گساران زد

ز شمشیر سرافشانش، ظفر آن روز بدرخشید
که چون خورشید انجم‌سوز تنها بر هزاران زد

دوام عمر و ملک او، بخواه از لطف حق ای دل!
که چرخ، این سکهٔ دولت به دور روزگاران زد

At dawn, when the king of the east planted his banner on the mountains,
my beloved, with the hand of mercy, knocked at the door of the hopeful.

When it became clear to the morning what the sky's affection is like,
it rose and laughed sweetly at the pride of the fortunate.

Last night in the gathering, when my beauty rose meaning to dance,
she untied the knot of her hair and tied it on the hearts of her friends.

I washed my hands in my heart's blood of the colour of piety at the moment
her wine-measuring eye called out to the sober.

What iron-hearted one taught her this roguish custom,
that when she first came out she waylaid those who keep night vigils?

My poor heart formed the fancy of a royal rider and was suddenly gone;
Lord, watch over it, for it has charged at the centre of the horsemen.

For the bloom of her cheek, what lives we gave, what blood we drank;
when her image first appeared, it set its mark on those who give their lives.

How can I, in a woollen cloak, bring her into my lasso,
that one with hair like chain mail, whose lashes waylay dagger-wielders?

My eye is on the lot of success and the blessing of the king's fortune;
grant Hafez his heart's desire, for he has drawn the omen of the fortunate.

The king of kings, glorious in victory, Shoja of realm and faith, Mansur,
whose unstinting bounty laughed at the clouds of spring.

From the hour when the wine cup was honoured by his hand,
time has raised the goblet of joy to the health of those who drink.

From his head-scattering sword victory shone on the day
when, like the star-burning sun, he charged alone against thousands.

Ask of God's grace, O heart, for his life and reign to last,
for the wheel has struck this coin of fortune for the ages.