My friends are delightful and the garden green and joyous-
May the rose be happy and the wine drinkers joyous!
By the dawn breeze, each breath is pleased with scent of rose;
Yes and yes again the sweet breath of lovers is joyous!
The furled rose, preparing to die, composed her veil to leave;
Lament bolbol, for the cries of the wounded heart are joyous!
May the night-singing bird hear the good news about love’s way:
That the cries of those awake at night make the friend joyous!
There is no happy heart in this world’s bazaar, but if there were
Think of what makes the vagabond and the rend‘s wink joyous!
From the tongue of the white lily, I have often heard
That in this broken world the work of the carefree is joyous!
Hafez, to renounce the world of courtly speech is bliss-
As long as you don’t regard the life of kings as joyous!
notes: bolbol= nightingale.
