This is the ninth of the Persian pages, continuing the rendering in English of the
mystical thought of Khawaja Hafiz Shirazi,
|The Poetry of Khawaja Hafiz Shirazi
Ghazal 31 (W-C 35)
What need has my garden of the pine and cypress?
The box tree, grown in the shade, how is it any less?
What religion have you espoused O my fair young beauty,
That my blood, licit as mother’s milk, for you seems to be.
Since you envisage grief on the horizon - drink wine,
This diagnosis is correct and the cure is in the wine.
Why take my head from the wine merchant’s doorstep;
Fortune is in his head, and tranquillity in his doorstep.
Love’s story is one and the same, what a wonderful tale,
But every lover will tell it quite differently, without fail.
Yesterday, wine-fuelled promises from a wine filled head!
Today what will happen - what will come from that head?
Speak no ill of Shiraz; water of Ruknabad; its pleasant breeze;
Of all the seven kingdoms of the world, these most please.
The water of life and Khizr, concealed in darkness, is very far,
Long is the journey to water whose fount is ‘Allahhu Akbar1’
We won’t detract from the honour due contentment with poverty,
So tell the king whatever we receive is on account of our destiny.
Only broken hearts are purchased in this, our Way;
The market place for pretenders is some distance away.
Come back quickly, my eye seeks your coming as eagerly,
As the faster’s ear listens for ‘Allah Ho Akbar’ greedily.
Hafiz, how marvellous your reed pen! Yes a sweet branch it is;
Bearing much more heart-pleasing fruit than sugar or honey it is.
Ghazal 32 Parsi
Rovzeye kholdebarin khalvate darvishan ast
Maayeye mohtashami khedmate darvishan ast
Ganje ozlat ke telesmaate ajaayeb daarad
Fathe aan dar nazare rahmate darvishaan ast
Ghasre ferdovs ke rezvansh be darbaani raft
Manzari az chamane nazhate darvishan ast
Anche zar mishavad az partove aan ghalbe siaah
Kimiyaaeest ke dar sohbate darvishan ast
Anke pishash benahad taaje takabbor khorshid
Kebriaeest ke dar heshmate darvishaan ast
Dovlati ra ke nabashad gham az aasibe zavaal
Bi takallof besheno dovlate darvishan ast
Khosrovaan ghebleye haajaate jahaanand vali
Sababash bandegiye hazrate darvishan ast
Rooye maghsood ke shaahaan be doa mitalaband
Mazharash aayeneye tal-ate darvishan ast
Az karaan ta be karaan lashkare zolm ast vali
Az azal ta be abad forsate darvishan ast
Ey tavaangar maforoosh in hame nekhvat ke to ra
Sar o zar dar kanafe hemmate darvishan ast
Ganje Gharoon ke foroo mishavad az ghahr hanooz
Khaande baashi ke ham az gheirate darvishan ast
Hafez ar aabe hayaate azali mikhaahi
Manba-ash khaake dare khalvate darvishan ast
Man gholaame nazare aasafe ahdam ku ra
Soorate khaajegi o sirate darvishan ast
Ghazal 31 Parsi
Baaghe maraa che haajate sarv o senovbar ast
Shemshaade khaane parvare maa az ke kamtar ast
Ey naazanin pesar to che mazhab gereftei
Ket khoone maa haalaaltar az shire maadar ast
Chon naghshe gham ze door bebini sharaab khaah
Tash-khis kardeim o modavaa mogharrar ast
Az aastaane pire moghaan sar cheraa keshim
Dovlat dar aan saraa o goshaayesh dar aan dar ast
Yek ghesse bish nist ghame eshgh vin ajab
Kaz har zabaan ke mishenavam naa mokarrar ast
Di va-de daad vaslam o dar sar sharaab daasht
Emrooz taa che gooyad o baazash che dar sar ast
Shiraz o aabe rokni o in baade khosh nasim
Eybash makon ke khaale rokhe haft keshvar ast
Fargh ast az aabe khezr ke zolmaat jaaye oust
Taa aabe maa ke manba-ash allaho akbar ast
Maa aaberooye faghr o ghanaa-at nemibarim
Baa paadshah begooy ke roozi mogharrar ast
Dar raahe maa shekaste deli mikharand o bas
Baazaare khodforooshi az aan raahe digar ast
Baaz aa ke dar feraagh do chashme omidvaar
Chon gooshe roozedaar bar allaho akbar ast
Hafez che torfe shaakhe nabaatist kelke to
Kesh mive delpazirtar az shahd o shekkar ast
Ghazal 32 (W-C 36)
Highest paradise garden is just a retreat for the Dervishes,
The source of munificence is the service of the Dervishes.
Many a wonderful talisman is in the treasure house of Dervishes,
Access to it is gained from the merciful look of the Dervishes.
The palace of paradise, to guard the door of which, Rizwan goes,
Is but a turret to view the pleasures in the Dervishes’ meadows.
The ray that transforms base metals into the gold of purity
Comes from the company of Dervishes, as an alchemy,
The sun lays down its shining crown before the glory,
That can be found keeping the Dervishes’ company.
Inestimable, never decaying, is that wealth and sovereignty,
That, to put it simply, is the Dervishes very own treasury.
Kings are the Qibla the whole world turn to for help in need,
Because to serve the majesty of the Dervishes, they give heed.
The ambitions of the world’s kings in many forms appear,
But are mere mirror images of what in Dervishes appear.
From one end of the earth to the other are the armies of tyranny,
Before time began to after time’s end, the Dervishes find timely.
O power wielding potentate, boast not of splendour you are owning,
For gold and your very head depend on a look Dervishes are giving.
That Karun with his fabled wealth sinks still deeper below,
Maybe you read - it is jealous Dervish wrath that makes it so.
Hafiz, if to drink the water of everlasting life you must;
At the door to the Dervishes’ cell, its fount is that dust
I am the slave of the Asaf, in our present age living,
Beneath whose royal finery a Dervish I am seeing.
Ghazal 33 (W-C 37)
Wine cup in hand my beloved came, drunk, into the Magian’s lair.
With a narcissus-like eye that intoxicated the wine drinkers there.
In the hoof of that one’s horse the crescent moon, one can see,
In that towering presence, small seemed the height of the fir tree.
How to give news of myself when no news comes to me,
How to say I don’t see you, when I see you constantly.
When you rose up in the heart of friends, the candle flame died out,
When you set down, from those with sight, rose up a great shout.
If amber has a musk scented quality, it’s been in your hair somehow,
If the indigo dye is an archer it’s from mixing with your eyebrow.
Like the candle I burn up my own existence, all night till morning,
Consumed like a moth I am; only during the day am I sitting.
O return please, so that Hafiz renewed signs of life may show;
Though the arrow flies not back, once it left the archer’s bow.
Ghazal 33 Parsi
Dar deire moghaan aamad yaaram ghadahi dar dast
Mast az mey o meikhaaraan az nargese mastash mast
Dar na-le samande ou shekle mahe no peidaa
Vaz ghadde bolande ou baalaaye senovbar past
Aakhar be che gooyam hast az khod khabaram chon nist
Vaz bahre che gooyam nist baa vey nazaram chon hast
Sham-e dele damsaazam benshast cho ou barkhaast
Vafghaan ze nazar baazaan barkhaast cho ou benshast
Gar ghaaliye khosh boo shod dar gisooye ou pichid
Var vasme Kamaan kesh shod dar abrooye ou peivast
Chon sham vojoode man shab taa be sahar khod raa
Misookht cho parvaane taa rooz ze paa nanshast
Baaz aay ke baaz aayad omre shodeye Hafez
Har chand ke naayad baaz tiri ke beshod az shast
Ghazal 34 (W-C 38)
That sleepy, sullen, seductive look, in those narcissus-like eyes,
And wayward curl midst tousled hair, have purpose I surmise.
When mother’s milk your lips still made moist, I used to say this;
‘Sugar at the salt mine mouth’: your sweet lip not lacking purpose is.
Your mouth, the fountain of the water of life’s essence it is,
But that chin dimple, your lip’s pit edge; not without purpose is.
A long life I wish you certainly; for your eyelashes arrows are,
From your eyebrow’s bow, not aimed without purpose they are.
From the heart-sorrow of separation, in grief’s grip it seems you are,
But your cries, groans and moans - not without purpose they are.
Last night from your street, a scent to the rose-bed blew,
O rose, that ripped collar was not without its purpose too.
Mostly concealed from the herd, the pains love inflicts on us are,
But Hafiz, these tear-filled eyes, not without purpose they are.
Ghazal 34 Parsi
Khaabe aan nargese fattane to bi chizi nist
Taabe aan zolfe parishaane to bi chizi nist
Az labat shir ravaan bood ke man migoftam
In shekar gerde namakdaane to bi chizi nist
Cheshmeye aabe hayaat ast dahaanat amma
Bar labash chaahe zanakhdaane to bi chizi nist
Jaan deraziyye to baadaa ke yaghin midaanam
Dar kamaan naavake mojgaane to bi chizi nist
Mobtalaaee be ghame mehnat o andoohe feraagh
Ey del in naale o afghaane to bi chizi nist
Doosh baad az sare kooyash be golestaan begozasht
Ey gol in chaake garibaane to bi chizi nist
Darde eshgh ar che del az khalgh nahaan midaarad
Hafez in dideye geryaane to bi chizi nist
Ghazal 35 (W-C 39)
O sermoniser, sort yourself out, what’s the commotion, pray?
Today my hand gave my heart away, what did yours do today?
Although love’s intoxication to a ruined state brought me,
The foundation of my prosperity that ruin turned out to be.
O heart, at the beloved’s violence don’t cry, saying, ‘Injustice!’
It is the beloved gave you this and the beloved is justice.
The beloved’s slender waist, from nothing God brought it,
It is such a subtlety that no one created has discovered it.
Your street’s beggar for eight paradises has no need,
A captive to you, so from both worlds that one is freed.
Until your lip takes me to my desire, as in kissing the ney,
My ear hears only vain wind from what worldly folk say.
Hafiz, no more stories, no more charm filled words breath out,
For many such magical tales, linger in the memory, no doubt.
Ghazal 35 Parsi
Boro be kaare khod ey vaaez in che faryaad ast
Maraa fetaad del az rah to raa che oftaadast
Agar che mastiye eshgham kharaab kard vali
Asaase hastiye man zaan kharaab aabaad ast
Delaa manaal ze bidaad o jovre yaar ke yaar
To raa nasib hamin kard o in az aan daad ast
Miaane ou ke khodaa aafaride ast az hich
Daghigheist ke hich aafaride nagshaadast
Gedaaye kooye to az hasht khold mostaghnist
Asire eshghe to az har do aalam aazad ast
Be kaam taa naresaanad maraa labash chon naay
Nasihate hame aalam be gooshe man baad ast
Boro fesaane makhaan o fosoon madam Hafez
Kazin fesaane o afsoon maraa basi yaad ast
Ghazal 36 (W-C 40)
That full ruby lip! Yet thirsty for my blood the beloved is,
The surrender of my life to gain sight of you, my labour is.
If you saw the eyelashes of that dark-eyed heart breaker,
Of my desire you would feel ashamed to be an ill speaker.
Camel-driver, pass my door, carry my goods and me further,
At the end of my lane is the beloved’s Way, go there rather.
I am slave to my fortunate stars, for in this time of infidelity,
The faithful love of that intoxicated beauty has purchased me.
The tray of itr1 bottles and cascading hair that’s like amber,
Gives the flavour of favours from my sweet essence maker.
O gardener from your gate on your wind don’t blow me away,
My pomegranate-red tears, like your water, on the rose bed stay.
Of sweetness and rose water, the beloved’s lip is the provider,
The cure of the narcissus’ eye, for the love-sick heart’s disorder.
That one who teaches Hafiz how the art of the ghazal to refine,
Is a sweetly spoken, subtle speaker and a good friend of mine
Ghazal 36 Parsi
La-le siraabe be khoon teshne labe yaare man ast
Vaz peye didane ou daadane jaan kaare man ast
Sharm az aan chashme siah baadash o mojgaane deraaz
Har ke del bordane ou did o dar enkaare man ast
Sarevaan rakht be darvaaze mabar kaan sare koo
Shaah raahist ke manzelgahe deldaare man ast
Bandeye taale-e khisham ke dar in ghahte vafaa
Eshghe aan looliye sarmast kharidaare man ast
Tableye atre gol o zolfe abir afshaanash
Feize yek shamme ze booye khoshe attare man ast
Baaghbaan hamcho nasimam ze dare khish maraan
Kaabe golzaare to az ashke cho golnaare man ast
Sharbate ghand o golaab az labe yaaram farmood
Nargese ou ke tabibe dele bimaare man ast
Aanke dar tarze ghazal nokte be Hafez aamookht
Yaare shirin sokhane naadere goftaare man ast
photo of Hafiziya - by Maryam Moghadam
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