Ghazal 408: O you whose beauty has the sun for its mirror-holder

ای آفتاب آینه دار جمال تو
مشک سیاه مجمره گردان خال تو

صحن سرای دیده بشستم ولی چه سود
ک‌این گوشه نیست درخور خیل خیال تو

در اوج ناز و نعمتی ای پادشاه حسن
یا رب مباد تا به قیامت زوال تو

مطبوعتر ز نقش تو صورت نبست باز
طغرانویس ابروی مشکین مثال تو

در چین زلفش ای دل مسکین چگونه‌ای
کآشفته گفت باد صبا شرح حال تو

برخاست بوی گل ز در آشتی درآی
ای نوبهار ما رخ فرخنده فال تو

تا آسمان ز حلقه به گوشان ما شود
کو عشوه‌ای ز ابروی همچون هلال تو

تا پیش بخت بازروم تهنیت کنان
کو مژده‌ای ز مقدم عید وصال تو

این نقطه سیاه که آمد مدار نور
عکسیست در حدیقه بینش ز خال تو

در پیش شاه عرض کدامین جفا کنم
شرح نیازمندی خود یا ملال تو

حافظ در این کمند سر سرکشان بسیست
سودای کج مپز که نباشد مجال تو

O you whose beauty has the sun for its mirror-holder,
and black musk to swing the censer for your mole.

I washed the courtyard of the house of the eye, but what use?
This corner is not fit for the troop of your image.

You are at the height of grace and bounty, O king of beauty;
O Lord, may you know no decline until the resurrection.

No form more pleasing than your picture was ever drawn
by the writer of the royal cipher who traced your musky eyebrow.

In the curl of his tress, poor heart, how are you?
For the east wind, distraught, told the story of your state.

The scent of the rose has risen: come in by the door of peace,
you whose face of happy omen is our early spring.

So that the sky may become one of our slaves with a ring in the ear,
where is one coquettish sign from your crescent eyebrow?

So that I may go back to my fortune with congratulations,
where is the good news of the coming of the festival of union with you?

This black dot that has become the pivot of light
is a reflection of your mole in the garden of sight.

Before the king, which cruelty shall I lay out:
the account of my own need, or your weariness of me?

Hafez, in this lasso there are the heads of many proud ones;
do not cook up crooked fancies: it is not within your reach.