Poems from the Divan of Hafiz 25

The days of absence and the bitter nights Of separation, all are at an end! Where is the influence of the star that blights My hope? The omen answers: At an end! Autumn’s abundance, creeping Autumn’s mirth, Are ended and forgot when o’er the earth The wind of Spring with soft warm feet doth wend.

The Day of Hope, hid beneath Sorrow’s veil, Has shown its face—ah, cry that all may hear: Come forth! the powers of night no more prevail! Praise be to God, now that the rose is near With long-desired and flaming coronet, The cruel stinging thorns all men forget, The wind of Winter ends its proud career.

The long confusion of the nights that were, Anguish that dwelt within my heart, is o’er; ’Neath the protection of my lady’s hair Grief nor disquiet come to me no more. What though her curls wrought all my misery, My lady’s gracious face can comfort me, And at the end give what I sorrow for.

Light-hearted to the tavern let me go, Where laughs the pipe, the merry cymbals kiss; Under the history of all my woe, My mistress sets her hand and writes: Finis. Oh, linger not, nor trust the inconstant days That promised: Where thou art thy lady stays— The tale of separation ends with this!

Joy’s certain path, oh Saki, thou hast shown— Long may thy cup be full, thy days be fair! Trouble and sickness from my breast have flown, Order and health thy wisdom marshals there. Not one that numbered Hafiz’ name among The great—unnumbered were his tears, unsung; Praise him that sets an end to endless care!