Ghazal 343: More than forty years have gone by in which I have been boasting

چل سال بیش رفت که من لاف می‌زنم
کز چاکران پیر مغان کمترین منم

هرگز به یمن عاطفت پیر می‌فروش
ساغر تهی نشد ز می صاف روشنم

از جاه عشق و دولت رندان پاک‌باز
پیوسته صدر مصطبه‌ها بود مسکنم

در شأن من به دردکشی ظن بد مبر
کآلوده گشت جامه، ولی پاک‌دامنم

شهباز دست پادشهم، این چه حالت است؟
کز یاد برده‌اند هوای نشیمنم

حیف است بلبلی چو من اکنون در این قفس
با این لسان عذب، که خامش چو سوسنم

آب و هوای فارس عجب سفله‌پرور است
کو همرهی؟ که خیمه از این خاک برکنم

حافظ! به زیر خرقه قدح تا به کی کشی؟
در بزم خواجه، پرده ز کارت برافکنم

توران‌شه خجسته که در من یزید فضل
شد منت مواهب او طوق گردنم

More than forty years have gone by in which I have been boasting
that among the servants of the Magian elder I am the least.

Never, through the blessing of the old wine seller's kindness,
has my cup been empty of clear, bright wine.

Through the dignity of love and the fortune of the rends who stake everything,
my seat has always been the place of honour on the tavern benches.

Do not think ill of me because I drink the dregs,
for my garment is stained, but my skirt is clean.

I am the royal falcon on the king's hand; what state is this,
that they have made me forget my longing for my perch?

It is a pity that a nightingale like me, now in this cage,
with so sweet a tongue, should be silent as the lily.

The water and air of Fars are a wonder at rearing the base;
where is a companion, that I may pull up my tent from this soil?

Hafez, how long will you go on drinking the cup beneath the cloak?
At the master's banquet I will throw the veil from your doings.

The fortunate Turanshah, who, in the bidding for merit,
has made the debt I owe to his gifts a collar around my neck.