Ghazal 486: Last night the nightingale, from the branch of the cypress

بلبل، ز شاخ سرو، به گلبانگ پهلوی
می‌خواند دوش، درس مقامات معنوی

یعنی بیا، که آتش موسی، نمود گل
تا از درخت، نکتهٔ توحید بشنوی

مرغان باغ، قافیه‌سنجند و بذله‌گوی
تا خواجه می خورد، به غزل‌های پهلوی

جمشید، جز حکایت جام، از جهان نبرد
زنهار! دل مبند، بر اسباب دنیوی

این قصهٔ عجب شنو از بخت واژگون
ما را بکشت یار، به انفاس عیسوی

خوش، وقت بوریا و گدایی و خواب امن
کاین عیش، نیست درخور اورنگ خسروی

چشمت، به غمزه، خانهٔ مردم، خراب کرد
مخموریت مباد، که خوش مست می‌روی

دهقان سال‌خورده، چه خوش گفت با پسر
کای نور چشم من! به جز از کشته، ندروی

ساقی، مگر وظیفهٔ حافظ، زیاده داد
کآشفته گشت، طرهٔ دستار مولوی

Last night the nightingale, from the branch of the cypress,
was reciting in the old Persian tongue the lesson of the spiritual stations.

That is to say: come, for the rose has shown the fire of Moses,
so that you may hear from the tree the fine point of the divine unity.

The birds of the garden weigh rhymes and tell their jests,
so that the master may drink his wine to songs in the old tongue.

Jamshid took nothing from the world but the story of the cup;
take care, do not set your heart on worldly goods.

Hear this strange tale of a fortune turned upside down:
the friend has killed us with the breath of Jesus.

Happy is the time of the reed mat, of begging and of sleeping in safety,
for such pleasure does not belong to the throne of a king.

Your eye, with one glance, has laid the house of everyone in ruins;
may you suffer no morning after, for you go so finely drunk.

How well the aged farmer said to his son:
"Light of my eyes, you will reap nothing but what you have sown."

Perhaps the cupbearer gave Hafez more than his allowance,
for the tassel of the learned man's turban has come undone.