شهر خالی، جادّه خالی، کوچه خالی، خانه خالی Cities empty, roads empty, streets empty, homes empty Goblets empty, dinner tables empty, cups and measures empty Our friends, our nightingales have migrated flock by flock Orchards empty, gardens empty, branches empty, nests empty
Oh, woe to the world where lovers fear one another Where thirsty buds fear gardens Where lovers fear the sound of union Where hands of musicians fear instruments Where the chevaliers fear flat roads Where doctors fear the sight of patients
Songs were smashed and the poets’ torment reached all bounds Years of await passed in agony for you and I
Friends turned into strangers As soon as I gave my hand, my life became a barren land I weeped and I wailed, I knocked on every door I poured upon my head the dust and mire of this ruined shelter bit by bit Yet the world went on as usual, no one cared
Woe to those feet that walk onto the enemy’s path Woe to those who lose their honor in service of the oppressor Musicians too have tuned their instruments to oppression Lo! How the tyrant’s hand is hailing upon us
The fountains dried up, the seas turned weary The heavens took our legend lightly Drinks have lost potency, love has no bosom to embrace thee Not a single soul hears out my lament, hears me
Come back so that the gone-away caravan would too come back
Come back so that the tender sweethearts would come back tenderly
Come back so that they all would come back, the minstrel, the music, the mandolin
Spread your forelock for your gracious sweetheart is coming back
Come back so that we may bow before Hafiz Spreading flowers and filling our cups with wine
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