Ghazal 431: I kiss his lip and drain the wine

لبش می‌بوسم و در می‌کشم می
به آب زندگانی برده‌ام پی

نه رازش می‌توانم گفت با کس
نه کس را می‌توانم دید با وی

لبش می‌بوسد و خون می‌خورد جام
رخش می‌بیند و گل می‌کند خوی

بده جام می و از جم مکن یاد
که می‌داند که جم کی بود و کی کی؟

بزن در پرده چنگ ای ماه مطرب!
رگش بخراش تا بخروشم از وی

گل از خلوت به باغ آورد مسند
بساط زهد همچون غنچه کن طی

چو چشمش مست را مخمور مگذار
به یاد لعلش ای ساقی بده می

نجوید جان از آن قالب جدایی
که باشد خون جامش در رگ و پی

زبانت درکش ای حافظ زمانی
حدیث بی‌زبانان بشنو از نی

I kiss his lip and drain the wine;
I have found the track to the water of life.

I cannot tell his secret to anyone,
nor can I bear to see anyone with him.

The cup kisses his lip and drinks blood;
the rose sees his face and breaks into sweat.

Give me the cup of wine and do not speak of Jamshid;
who knows when Jamshid lived, or when Kay?

Strike the harp in its mode, O moon of a minstrel;
pluck its vein, that I may cry out with it.

The rose has carried its seat from seclusion into the garden;
fold up the carpet of asceticism like the bud.

Do not leave the drunken one languishing like his eye;
cupbearer, give wine in memory of his ruby lip.

The soul does not seek to part from that body
which has the blood of his cup in its veins and sinews.

Hold your tongue for a while, Hafez;
hear from the reed the tale of those who have no tongue.