Ghazal 13 (W-C 16)

I asked that sovereign of lovely ones to take pity on a stranger,
I was told that in the desires of the heart, lost, is the wanderer.

I said, “Please stay awhile”, but received just an excuse in reply,
“Raised with home comforts, of a stranger’s grief, what care have I?”

One gently raised to sleep in royal ermine cannot feel the pain,
Of the stranger’s bed of thorns, or stone on which his head has lain.

O you! In those chains of curling locks so many lovers stay,
Strange the musky mole matches your complexion that way.

Your moon-like face blushes with red wine’s reflection,
Strangely like a red bud’s petal on a wild rose’s complexion.

Strange, too, the downy hair, parading like ants around your face,
In the portrait gallery strange shadings1, like this, are common place.

I said “Your midnight black hair is dark as the ‘Night of Strangers;2
Take care at dawn a groan of grief may come from this strange.”

Again I spoke, “O my moon, that rose-hued cheek veil not;
For, if you do, surely distress and angst is this stranger’s lot.“

Said, “Hafiz, even friends are in bewilderment;3 astounded!
Is it any wonder a stranger should be confused; confounded?”
tGhazal 13 Parsi

Goftam ey soltaane khoobaan rahm kon bar in gharib
Goft dar dombaale del rah gom konad meskin gharib

Goftamash magzar zamaani goft mazooram bedaar
Khaane parvardi che taab aarad ghame chandin gharib

Khofte bar sanjaabe shaahi nazanini raa che gham
Gar ze khaar o khaare saazad bastar o baalin gharib

Ey ke dar zanjire zolfat jaaye chandin aashenaast
Khosh fetaad aan khaale meshkin bar rokhe rangin gharib

Minamaayad akse mey dar range rooye mahvashat
Hamcho barge arghavaan bar safheye nasrin gharib

Bas gharib oftaade ast aan moore khat gerde rokhat
Garche nabvad dar negaarestaan khate meshkin gharib

Goftam ey shaame gharibaan torreye shabrange to
Dar sahargaahaan hazar kon chon benaalad in gharib

Goft Hafez aashenaayaan dar maghaame heiratand
Door nabvad gar neshinad khaste o meskin Gharib
Ghazal 14 (W-C 17)

Dawn arrives; with a veil, the cloud covers it up,
O my friends; the morning cup, the morning cup!

Dew drops are freezing on the lala’s red face,
O my dear friends, the wine, the wine, embrace!

From the green field the breeze of paradise is coming,
So keep on drinking wine; wine keep on, drinking!

In that field the emerald throne of the rose see;
Go and seek the wine that’s fiery like the ruby!

Again the taverns’ doors they have shut tightly,
Oh, “Opener” of doors, their opener please be.

At a time like this it is really quite extraordinary,
They close the tavern door with such alacrity.

The right of salt1, your ruby lip commands,
Against the roasted heart’s wounds demands.

O pious preacher drink wine as drunkards do,
O wise friends, fear God as you ought to.

If it is the water of eternal life you want to find,
Seek it in wine, and the sound of music refined.

If you seek the essence of life, like Alexander,
To the beloveds ruby red lip, just surrender.

To the nymph like cheek that the Saki does display,
Drink, like Hafiz, in the rose season, without delay.

Hafiz, grieve not! The beloved is good fortune,
And will remove the veil later on, if not soon.
Ghazal  14  Parsi

midamad sobh o kelle bast sahaab
asabooh asabooh yaa as-haab

michekad jaale bar rokhe laale
almodaam almodaam yaa ahbaab

mivazad az chaman nasime behesht
haan benooshid dam be dam meye nab

takhte zomorrod zadast gol be chaman
raahe chon la-le aatashin daryaab

dare meikhaane basteand degar
eftateh yaa mofattehal abvaab

lab o dandaant raa hoghooghe namak
hast bar jaan o sinehaaye kabaab

in chonin movsemi ajab baashad
ke bebandand meikade be shetaab

bar rokhe saaghiye pari peikar
hamcho Hafez benoosh baadeye naab

Hafeza gham makhor ke shaahede bakht
Aaghebat dar keshad ze chehre neghaab
Ghazal 17 Parsi

Ravaaghe manzare chashme man aashiyaaneye tost
Karam namaa o forroodd aa ke khaane khaaneye tost

Be lotfe khaal o khat az aarefaan roboodi del
Latifehaaye ajab zire daam o daaneye tost

Delat be vasle gol ey bolbole sabaa khosh baad
Ke dar chaman hame golbaange aasheghaaneye tost

Alaaje zafe dele maa be lab havaalat kon
Ke in mofarrahe yaghoot dar khazaaneye tost

Be tan moghasseram az dovlate molaazematat
Vali kholaaseye jaan khaake aastaaneye tost

Man aan niam ke daham naghde del be har shookhi
Dare khazaane be mohre to o neshaaneye tost

To khod che lo-bati ey shahsavaare shirin kaar
Ke tovsani cho falak raame taaziaaneye tost

Che jaaye man ke belaghzad sepehre shobade baaz
Az in hial ke dar ambaaneye bahaaneye tost

Soroode majlesat aknoon falak be raghs aarad
Ke shere Hafeze shirin sokhan taraaneye tost
The Poetry of Khawaja Hafiz Shirazi
This is the sixth of the Persian pages, continuing the rendering in English of the mystical
thought of Khawaja Hafiz Shirazi,
3rd page of Ghazals ( 13-18 )
photo of Hafiziya - by Maryam Moghadam
Ghazal 15 (W-C 18)

The morn of fortune dawned and the sun-like bowl is where?
Bring the bowl of wine! What more opportune time is there?  

A peaceful house, a friendly Saki, a subtle master of song,
It’s the time of youth, of celebration and passing the bowl along.

The time for opening within, and enjoying the jewel of beauty,
Happy mixture! The golden bowl is receiving the dissolving ruby.

From seeing the grace hid within wine, nature’s bride-dresser -
Was secreting, in the heart of the rose petal, the rosewater.

Musician and beloved, hand-waving; the love-drunk dancers;
The Saki’s glance has driven sleep from wine-worshippers.

A quiet haven, secure; and goodly company that is pleasing,
O Lord – what I see, am I awake or am I really sleeping?

When from Hafiz that moon purchased pearls eagerly,
Then up to Venus’ ear the sound of the rebab rose joyfully
Ghazal 15 Parsi

Sobhe dovlat midamad koo jaame hamchon aaftaab
Forsati zin beh kojaa baashad bede jaame sharaab

Khaane bi tashvish o saaghi yaar o motreb nokte gooy
Movseme eish ast o dovre saaghar o ahde shabaab

Az peye tafrihe tab-o zivare hosne tarab
Khosh bovad tarkibe zarrin jaam baa la-le mozaab

Az khiaale lotfe mey mashaateye chaalaake tab
Dar zamire barge gol khosh mikonad penhaan golaab

Shaahed o motreb be dast afshaan o mastaan paay koob
Ghamzeye saaghi ze chashme meyparastaan borde khaab

Khalvate khaas ast o jaaye amn o nozhatgaahe ons
Inke mibinam be bidaarist yaa rab yaa be khaab

Taa shod aan mah moshtari dorhaaye Hafez raa konoon
Miresad har dam be gooshe zohre golbaange robaab
Ghazal 16 (W-C 20)

By the soul of Khwaja, by ancient right and by sacred covenant,
At dawn’s early breath,  prayer I befriend; your welfare our intent.

Though greater in extent than the flood of Noah, are my tears,
They didn’t remove the image of your love, that in my heart

Here’s a real bargain! A genuine shattered heart is my offer;
In this state its worth more than the intact hearts most proffer.

The tongue of the ant harangued even Asaf - quite rightly,
For he sought not the seal of Solomon he lost so carelessly.

Do not complain of my madness! From the beginning,
The Murshid consigned me to the tavern and wine drinking.

Let not your heart lose hope, the friend’s kindness is infinite,
When it boasts of love go ‘all in’, throw your head in with it.

Strive for Truth, that from your soul the sun will rise today,
Due to falseness the first dawn a black face does display

From your hand I got craziness for mountain and plain,
But you keep me bound, from pity, by this waist chain.

Hafiz don’t grieve nor expect from heart breakers constancy,
How is it a crime in the garden if its grass grows not quickly.
Ghazal 16 Parsi

Be jaane khaaje o haghe ghadim o ahde dorost
Ke moonese dame sobham doaaye dovlate tost

Sereshke man ke ze toofaane nooh dast barad
Ze lovhe sine nayarast naghshe mehre to shost

Bekon moamelei vin dele shekaste bekhar
Ke baa shekastegi arzad be sad hezaar dorost

Zabaane moor be aasaf deraaz gasht o ravaast
Ke khaaje khaatame jam yaave kard o baaz najost

Malaamatam be kharaabi makon ke morshede eshgh
Havaalatam be kharaabaat kard rooze nokhost

Delaa tama mabor az lotfe binahaayate doost
Cho laafe eshgh zadi sar bebaaz chaabok o chost

Be sedgh koosh ke khorshid zaayad az nafasat
Ke az doroogh siyahrooy gasht sobhe nokhost

Shodam ze daste to sheidaaye kooh o dasht o hanooz
Nemikoni be tarrahom netaaghe selsele sost

Maranj Hafez o az delbaraan hefaaz majooy
Gonaahe baagh che bashad  cho in giyaah n
Ghazal 17(W-C 21)

My seeing eye is the vestibule of the house in which you live;
O be so kind as to drop by, and a visit to your own house give!

Your mole and line of down1 catch the heart of the knowing Sufi;
Beneath the grain’s trap such wonderful subtleties wait quietly.

O bulbul, why not enjoy happily your union with the rose?
Only your love song is heard and throughout the garden goes.

In the art of your lip place the remedy for our sick hearts,
In your treasury, that ruby medicine, most excitement imparts.

My body is inadequate to give the service your worth deserves,
But my soul’s very essence as the dust of your doorstep serves.

I am not the kind who gives the gold of the heart to just anybody,
Signed and sealed with your mark, is the door to the treasury.

What a masterful rider! You just have to show the whip,
As if by magic, the wild horse responds to your firm grip.

Who am I? You amaze even that artful juggler, the sky,
With the store of magical tricks you employ, on the sly.

Now the music from your gathering has the sky reeling,
Because the sweet  verses of  Hafiz you are singing.
Ghazal 18 (W-C 22)

Of the beloved’s love, the heart is the secret chamber;
Of the beloved’s form, the eye is just a mirror holder.

To neither of the two worlds do I in anyway defer,
The weight of that one’s grace, on my neck I prefer.

To you, the tall Tuba tree; for me, the height of the beloved;
Everyone  is happy about the height their aspiration reached.

If my garments happen to be soiled, what’s the difference?
The whole world bears witness to the beloved’s innocence.

This place is a sanctified palace, guarded by the breeze,
How should I expect to gain entrance to the beloved with ease.

The vista of my eye is never devoid of that one’s presence,
Because in its corner is the quiet chamber of remembrance.

Every rose becoming decoration for the green of the meadows,
Colour and perfume from converse with the beloved shows.

The time of Majnun has passed and our turn is now,
Everyone, for just five days, gets their time somehow.

The wide kingdom of the lover, and the cosy corner of joy,
Comes from the grace and favour of the beloved, I enjoy.

If my heart and I are sacrificed for the beloved, no fear,
My beloved’s welfare and safety is my sole object here.

Anything but the beloved may your eye never try to see,
For it’s in that corner of the chamber, the beloved will be.

Don’t regard the apparent poverty of Hafiz,
His heart the great treasure trove of love is.
Ghazal 18 Parsi

Del saraapardeye mahabbate oost
Dide aaeenedaare tal-ate oost

Man ke sar dar nayavaram be do kovn
Gardanam zire baare mennate oost

To o Toobaa o ma o ghaamate yaar
Fekre har kas be ghadre hemmate oost

Gar man aaloode daamanam che ajab
Hame aalam gavaahe esmate oost

Man ke baasham dar aan haram ke sabaa
Pardedaare harime hormate oost

Bi khialash mabaad manzare chashm
Zaanke in gooshe jaaye khalvate oost

Har gole nov ke shod chaman aaraay
Zasare rang o booye sohbate oost

Dovre Majnoon gozasht o novbate maast
Har kasi panj rooz  novbate oost

Molkate aasheghi o ganje tarab
Harche daaram ze yomne hemmate oost

Man o del gar fadaa shodim che baak
Gharaz andar miaan salaamate oost

Faghre zaaher mabin ke Hafez ra
Sine ganjineye mahabbate oost
under construction
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