|The Poetry of Khawaja Hafiz Shirazi
This is the fifth of the Persian pages, continuing the rendering in English of the mystical
thought of Khawaja Hafiz Shirazi,
Ghazal 7 (W-C 7)
The shine of youthfulness to the garden has returned,
To the sweet voiced bulbul, news of the rose has reached.
O breeze, to the young in the meadow, if you pass that way,
Our respects, to the cypress, the rose and the sweet basil pay.
If, in the landlord’s youngster, such evident brightness I discern,
Gladly with my eye-lashes I’ll sweep the entrance of the tavern.
This tribe sneering at the lovers who drink wine’s dregs,
I fear for them, that their own faith may lose its legs
Be a friend of the friends of God, for in Noah’s great ship,
Is dust that wouldn’t buy the flood, not even a single drip.
Get out of this house, the sphere; don’t look for bread,
In the end from this mean bowl all you get is – dead.
Of him whose last resting place is a small mound of dust,
Ask why one would want towers that to the sky thrust.
My moon of Canaan, the throne of Egypt awaits you;
Farewells to the time of captivity are long overdue.
In those long, flowing, locks what intention is there?
Again you have mussed up that musk-scented hair.
Not a single point of the secrets of existence can be shown,
Unless you are in the middle of bewilderment’s zone.
Hafiz drink wine! Be profligate, and find joy in it too,
But don’t use the Qur’an to deceive, as some try to do.
Ghazal 7 Parsi
Rovnaghe ahde shabaab ast degar bostaan raa
Miresad mojdeye gol bolbole khosh alhaan raa
Ey sabaa gar be javaanaane chaman baaz rasi
Khedmate maa beresaan sarv o gol o reyhaan raa
Gar chonin jelve konad moghbacheye baade foroosh
Khaak roobe dare meikhaane konam mojgaan raa
Ey ke bar mah keshi az anbare saaraa chovgaan
Moztarebhaal magardaan mane sargardaan raa
Tarsam in ghovm ke bar dord keshaan mikhandand
Dar sare kaare kharaabaat konand imaan raa
Yaare mardaane khodaa baash ke dar kashtiye nooh
Hast khaki ke be aabi nakharad toofaan raa
Boro az khaaneye gadroon be dar o naan matalab
Kaan siyah kaase dar aakhar bekoshad mehmaan raa
Har keraa khaabgaahe aakher moshti khaak ast
Goo che hajat ke be aflaak keshi eyvaan raa
Maahe kan-aaniye man masnade mesr aane to shod
Vaghte aan as t ke bedrood koni zendaan raa
Nashavi vaaghefe yek noghte ze asraare vojood
Taa na sar gashte shavi daayereye emkaan raa
Hafezaa mey khor o rendi kon o khosh bash vali
Dame tazvir makon chon degaraan ghoraan raa
Ghazal 8 (W-C 8)
If that Turk, the beauty of Shiraz, would take my heart in hand,
For that one’s Hindu mole I will give up Bokhara and Samarqand.
Yes! Saki, give what remains of wine! For paradise has not,
Musallas’ glades; nor the stream of Ruknabad has it got.
Oh dear, those sweet, city-tormenting saucepots and their flirting!
They steal the heart’s patience; the way Turks do their plundering.
That beloved one doesn’t need our feeble, fumbling, infatuation;
Does the beautiful face need any make up, mole, or colouration?
Yusuf’s blooming beauty was more manifest day by day;
I knew love must lift the veil of Zuleika’s honour one day.
Oh such bad words you have for me! I say, “Praise be!”
In bad words from such sweet lips, honey there must be.
Youth, listen to good advice, for the happy consider,
More precious than life, words of the wise old master.
Talk of musicians and wine and less of this sphere’s mystery,
None can unravel by reason the enigma of this world’s destiny.
Hafiz! In this ghazal perfect pearls you have threaded. Sing it -
So the heavens will sprinkle that cluster of seven-sisters on it.
Ghazal 8 Parsi
Agar aan torke shirazi be dast aarad dele maa r aa
Be khaale hendooyash bakhsham samarghand o bokharaa raa
Bede saaghi meye baaghi ke dar jannat nakhaahi yaaft
Kenaare aabe roknaabaad o golgashte mosallaa raa
Faghaan kin looliaane shookhe shirin kaare shahr aashoob
Chonaan bordand sabr az del ke torkaan khaane yaghmaa raa
Ze eshghe naa tamaame maa jamaale yaar mostaghnist
Be aab o rang o khaal o khat che haajat rooye zibaa raa
Man az aan hosne rooz afzoon ke yoosof daasht daanestam
Ke eshgh az pardeye esmat boron aarad zoleikhaa raa
Agar doshnaam farmaaee vagar nefrin doaa gooyam
Javaabe talkh mizibad labe la-le shekar khaa raa
Nasihat goosh kon jaanaa ke az jaan doost tar daarand
Javaanaane saadatmand pande pire daanaa raa
Hadis az motreb o mey goo o raaza dahr kamtar joo
Ke kas nagshood o nagshaayad be hekmat in moammaa raa
Ghazal gofti o dor softi biaa o khosh bekhaan Hafez
Ke bar nazme to afshaaanad falak eghde sorayya raa
Ghazal 9 (W-C 9)
O soft breeze, to that gracious gazelle, gently speak;
Say, “Mountain and desert, you have made us seek!”
I say, “Long live the sugar-seller,” but I just wonder why,
There’s no asking after the parrot who eats that supply?
Is it from pride in beauty the rose seems not inclined,
To inquire about the lovelorn bulbul’s state of mind?
Only a benign temperament captivates the clear sighted,
For the wise bird cannot by guile, or by net, be defeated
Tall, slender, cypress-like, dark-eyed moons; paragons of beauty,
I don’t know why they have not the colour of easy familiarity.
O, when with the beloved you sit, sweet wine sipping,
Consider frantic lovers, vainly at the wind snatching.
One cannot find fault with the perfection of that beauty,
But in that lovely face there appears no signs of fidelity.
In gratitude for the good fortune of a glorious company,
Extend sympathy to desert wanderers, with generosity.
If in the heavens the words of Hafiz, Venus should sing,
Would it surprise if the Messiah is inspired to dancing.
Ghazal 9 Parsi
Sabaa be lotf begoo aan ghazaale ranaa raa
Ke sar be kooh o biaabaaan to daadei maar aa
Shekar foroosh ke omrash deraaz baad cheraa
Tafaghodi nakonad tootiye shekar khaa raa
Ghoroore hosnat ejaazat magar nadaad ey gol
Ke porseshi nakoni andalibe sheidaa raa
Be kholgh o lotf tavaan kard seide ahle nazar
Be band o daam nagirand morghe daanaa raa
Nadaanam az che sabab range aashenaaee nist
Sahi ghadaane siyah chashme maah simaa raa
Joz in ghadar natavaan goft dar jamaale to eyb
Ke vaze mehr o vafaa nist rooye zibaa raa
Dar aasemaan na ajab gar be gofteye Hafez
Soroode zohre be raghs aavarad masihaa raa
Ghazal 10 (W-C 10)
Last night, our master from mosque to tavern headed,
What of us followers, now on this he has decided?
How should we now face towards the Qibla of piety,
When our guide only towards the tavern does see.
Well the Magian’s tavern must be our place of sojourn,
This destiny surely was writ even before time was born.
If reason knew the heart’s happiness in the locks of your hair,
Rational men would go quite wild to be chained up there.
Your face’s beauty unveiled a sign of great graciousness,
Since then our explanations have only grace and goodness.
Some night, will these sighs and supplications do something
To that stony heart? Our tears igniting and our heart burning.
Our falcon-heart had scarce captured its focus (its prey),
You released your locks - startled it, and it flew away!
The wind disturbed your black hair, now only blackness I see,
In this is the only advantage from your hair that comes to me.
From this sphere passed the arrow of our sigh. Hafiz, silent be!
Have compassion for your soul, and our arrow avert adroitly.
Ghazal 10 Parsi
Doosh az masjed sooye meikhaane aamad pire maa
Chist yaaraane tarighat bad az in tadbire maa
Maa moridaan rooy sooye gheble chon aarim chon
Rooy sooye khaaneye khammaar daarad pire maa
Dar kharaabaate tarighat maa be ham manzel shavim
Kin chonin raftast dar ahde azal taghdire maa
Aghl agar daanad ke del dar bande zolfash chon khosh ast
Aaghelaan divaane gardand az peye zanjire maa
Rooye khoobat aayati az lotf bar maa kashf kard
Zaan zamaan joz lotf o khoobi nist dar tafsire maa
Baa dele sanginat aayaa hich dar girad shabi
Aahe aatashnaak o sooze sineye shabgire maa
Tire aahe maa ze gadroon bogzarad Hafez khamoosh
Rahm kon bar jaane khod parhiz kon az tire maa
Ghazal 11 (W-C 11)
To the attendants of the Sultan, who will carry this prayer?
“In gratitude for your power, do not drive away the beggar”.
From the slinking whisperer in our nature, I take refuge with God,
Maybe that bright light may give some help, for the sake of God.
If that dark eye-lash of yours is targeting our blood directly,
Consider the implications; and don’t fall into error so easily.
When your face lights up, a world’s heart burns fiercely;
What benefit do you get out of behaving so unkindly?
Beloved, when you appear, what state is produced in a lover,
By your bright moon face and heart-stopping cypress figure!
All-night long I hope the dawn breeze the carrier may be,
Conveying from familiar friends, affectionate salaams to me.
My heart was turned into blood by your eye’s sorcery,
Beloved, see what I mean - how you have murdered me!
What is this doomsday scenario shown to many a lover?
Show your face! Our heart and life in sacrifice we offer.
Guide, give a drink to Hafiz, the dawn-rising lover,
May his early morning prayers be your mover.
The heart of unhappy Hafiz bleeds, from separation,
O beloved what if it had known a moment of union?
Ghazal 11 Parsi
Be molaazemaane soltaan ke resaanad in doaa raa
Ke be shokre paad shaahi ze nazar maraan gedaa raa
Ze raghibe div sirat be khodaaye khod panaaham
Magar aan sharaabe saagheb madadi dahad khodaa raa
Mojeye siaahat ar kard be khoone maa eshaarat
Ze faribe ou biandish o ghalat makon negaaraa
Dele aalami besoozi cho ezaar bar foroozi
To az in che sood daari ke nemikoni modaaraa
Che ghiaamat ast jaanaa ke be aasheghaan nemoodi
Rokhe hamcho maahe taabaan dele hamcho sange khaaraa
Hame shab dar in omidam ke nasime sobhgaahi
Be payaame aashenaayaan benavaazad aashenaa raa
Che ghiamat ast jaanaa ke be aasheghaan nemoodi
Del o jaan fadaaye rooyat benamaa ezaar maar aa
Bekhodaa ke joreei de to be Hafeze saharkhiz
Ke doaaye sobhgaahi asari konad shomaa raa
Ghazal 12 (W-C 12)
Righteous work is where? Where is my ruined state?
See how far it is, the way from one to the other state.
Of prayer place and hypocrisy's patched cloak my heart had its fill,
Where is the Magian’s circle? Where can pure wine be had still?
What connection can piety possibly have with this profligacy?
Where are vapid sermons? Where the string’s striking melody?
What can the black-hearted from the face of the Friend anticipate?
Where is the snuffed out lamp? Where that candle, the sun, so great?
The dust of your doorstep is eye-balm, so better our eyes will see.
Where are we to go? Give the command! Where should we be?
The apple of the chin’s dimple is a pit! Don’t be looking there!
Where are you going O heart? Where are you rushing to; where?
That one has gone – may our union remain pleasant in the memory.
Where has that kind glance gone? Where the look to rebuke me?
Friend do not seek for ease, nor patience, from Hafiz.
What of ease? What of patience? Say where sleep is!
Ghazal 12 Parsi
Salaahe kaar kojaa o mane kharaab kojaa
Bebin taafavote rah kaz kojaast taa be kojaa
Delam ze sovme-e begreft o khergheye saaloos
Kojaast deire moghaan o sharaabe naab kojaa
Che nesbat ast be rendi salaah o taghvaa raa
Samaae vaz kojaa naghmeye robaab kojaa
Ze rooye doost dele doshmanaan che daryaabad
Cheraaghe morde kojaa shame aaftaab kojaa
Cho kohle bineshe maa khaake aastaane shomaast
Kojaa ravim befarmaa az in jenaab kojaa
Mabin be sibe zanakhdaan ke chaah dar raah ast
Kojaa ravi hami ey del bedin shetaab kojaa
Beshod ke yaade khoshash baad roozegaare vesaal
Khod aan kereshme kojaa raft o aan etaab kojaa
Gharaar o khaab ze Hafez tama madaar ey doost
Gharaar chist saboori kodaam o khaab kodaam
|2nd page of Ghazals ( 7-12 )
photo of Hafiziya - courtesy Maryam Moghadam
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