Ghazal 50: In the snare of your tress the heart is its own captive

به دام زلف تو دل مبتلای خویشتن است
بکش به غمزه که اینش سزای خویشتن است

گرت ز دست برآید مراد خاطر ما
به دست باش که خیری به جای خویشتن است

به جانت ای بت شیرین دهن که همچون شمع
شبان تیره، مرادم فنای خویشتن است

چو رای عشق زدی با تو گفتم ای بلبل
مکن که آن گل خندان به رای خویشتن است

به مشک چین و چگل نیست بوی گل محتاج
که نافه‌هاش ز بند قبای خویشتن است

مرو به خانهٔ ارباب بی‌مروت دهر
که گنج عافیتت در سرای خویشتن است

بسوخت حافظ و در شرط عشقبازی او
هنوز بر سر عهد و وفای خویشتن است

In the snare of your tress the heart is its own captive;
kill it with a glance, for that is what it deserves.

If it lies in your power to grant our heart's desire,
be ready to, for it is a good deed in its right place.

By your life, O sweet-mouthed idol, like the candle
in the dark nights my desire is to burn myself away.

When you set your mind on love, I told you, nightingale:
do not, for that laughing rose follows its own will.

The scent of the rose has no need of the musk of China and Chigil,
for its musk pods come from the fastening of its own robe.

Do not go to the house of the ungenerous masters of the age,
for the treasure of your well-being is in your own house.

Hafez burned, and in the terms of the game of love
he still stands by his own pledge and faith.