Ghazal 465: I went into the garden one morning to pick a rose

رفتم به باغ صبحدمی تا چنم گلی
آمد به گوش ناگهم آواز بلبلی

مسکین چو من به عشق گلی گشته مبتلا
و اندر چمن فکنده ز فریاد غلغلی

می‌گشتم اندر آن چمن و باغ دم به دم
می‌کردم اندر آن گل و بلبل تاملی

گل یار حسن گشته و بلبل قرین عشق
آن را تفضلی نه و این را تبدلی

چون کرد در دلم اثر آواز عندلیب
گشتم چنان که هیچ نماندم تحملی

بس گل شکفته می‌شود این باغ را ولی
کس بی بلای خار نچیده‌ست از او گلی

حافظ مدار امید فرج از مدار چرخ
دارد هزار عیب و ندارد تفضلی

I went into the garden one morning to pick a rose;
suddenly the voice of a nightingale came to my ear.

The poor thing, like me, was afflicted with love for a rose,
and with its cries had raised a tumult in the meadow.

I walked about that meadow and garden from moment to moment,
reflecting on that rose and that nightingale.

The rose had become the friend of beauty, the nightingale the companion of love;
no favour came from the one, and no change in the other.

When the voice of the nightingale had worked upon my heart,
I became such that I had no endurance left.

Many a rose comes into bloom in this garden, but
no one has picked a rose from it without the hurt of the thorn.

Hafez, do not hope for relief from the turning of the wheel;
it has a thousand faults, and not one kindness.