Ghazal 409: O you, the dust of whose road is the blood-price of the musk of China

ای خونبهای نافه چین خاک راه تو
خورشید سایه‌پرور طرف کلاه تو

نرگس کرشمه می‌برد از حد برون خرام
ای من فدای شیوه چشم سیاه تو

خونم بخور که هیچ ملک با چنان جمال
از دل نیایدش که نویسد گناه تو

آرام و خواب خلق جهان را سبب تویی
زان شد کنار دیده و دل تکیه‌گاه تو

با هر ستاره‌ای سر و کار است هر شبم
از حسرت فروغ رخ همچو ماه تو

یاران همنشین همه از هم جدا شدند
ماییم و آستانه دولت پناه تو

حافظ طمع مبر ز عنایت که عاقبت
آتش زند به خرمن غم دود آه تو

O you, the dust of whose road is the blood-price of the musk of China;
the sun is reared in the shade of the edge of your cap.

The narcissus carries its coquetry beyond all bounds: step out,
O you for the manner of whose black eye I would give my life.

Drink my blood, for no angel, seeing such beauty,
would have the heart to write down your sin.

You are the cause of the rest and sleep of the people of the world;
that is why the edge of eye and heart became your resting place.

Every night I have business with every star,
out of longing for the light of your moon-like face.

The friends who sat together have all been parted from one another;
there remain only we and your threshold, the refuge of fortune.

Hafez, do not give up hope of favour, for in the end
the smoke of your sigh will set fire to the harvest of grief.