Hafez and Surah Qadr

There’s a close relationship between Hafez’s poetry and the Qur’an, and it’s seldom as explicit as in the poem below:

turqillumin

bluequran2

Translation:

This is the night of power and the book of separation is at an end
Therein is happiness until the break of dawn.
O heart, be steadfast in love
For on this path, no work is without reward.
I will not repent of my dissolute ways.
even if you punish me with banishment and separation.
My heart left, but I did not see the face of the sweetheart
weeping from this disdain and oh, from this grief.
Oh heart-illuminating morning, arise for God’s sake.
For the night of separation looks dark to me.
Hafez, if you want fidelity, endure cruelty
for there is gain and loss in trade.

 

illumincolorsbluequran1

 

Original:

شب وصل است و طی شد نامه هجر
سلام فیه حتی مطلع الفجر
دلا در عاشقی ثابت قدم باش
که در این ره نباشد کار بی اجر
من از رندی نخواهم کرد توبه
و لو آذیتنی بالهجر و الحجر
برآی ای صبح روشن دل خدا را
که بس تاریک می​بینم شب هجر
دلم رفت و ندیدم روی دلدار
فغان از این تطاول آه از این زجر
وفا خواهی جفاکش باش حافظ
فان الربح و الخسران فی التجر

 

Surah al-Qadr

 

Translation:

Truly we sent it down in the Night of Power
And what shall apprise thee of the Night of Power?
The Night of Power is better than a thousand months.
The Angels and the Spirit descend therein, by the leave of their Lord, with every command
Peace it is until the break of dawn.

 

 

Original:

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم Ra bracket.png إِنَّا أَنْزَلْنَاهُ فِي لَيْلَةِ الْقَدْرِ Aya-1.png وَمَا أَدْرَاكَ مَا لَيْلَةُ الْقَدْرِ Aya-2.png لَيْلَةُ الْقَدْرِ خَيْرٌ مِنْ أَلْفِ شَهْرٍ Aya-3.png تَنَزَّلُ الْمَلَائِكَةُ وَالرُّوحُ فِيهَا بِإِذْنِ رَبِّهِمْ مِنْ كُلِّ أَمْرٍ Aya-4.png سَلَامٌ هِيَ حَتَّى مَطْلَعِ الْفَجْرِ Aya-5.png La bracket.png .[1

 

surahqadrandalusi

angelsillumin

bluequran

turqilluminsmall

Hafez taught me: Three Great Ghazals

These three wonderful ghazals are right next to one another in Hafez’s Divan:

Ghazal 344:

bemuzhgan

 

 

bemuzhganeye

 

Translation:

With your black eyelashes, you poked thousands of holes in my faith
Come, let me pick thousands of pains from your lovesick eyes.

O companion of the heart who has forgotten your friends
Let there be no day when I am without your memory.

The world is old and without foundation—Alas, the fraud and deceit
of this killer of Farhad has made me tired of my sweet life.

The fire of separation drowned me in sweat like the rose
O dawn wind, bring a breeze from the one who wipes my sweat.

I sacrifice the ephemeral and eternal worlds for the young beauty and the Saqi
for I see the sultanate of the world as a parasite of love.

If the Friend chooses another in my place, the choice is His
But God forbid that I choose my life in place of the Friend.

The nightingale sang good morning. Where are you, Saqi? Arise!
For the memory of last night’s dream clamors in my head.

On the night of death, I shall go from my bed to the huri’s palace
if I you are the candle at my bedside as I surrender my soul.

The story of longing that became recorded in this book
is wholly without fault, for Hafez taught it to me.

 

(Translation From The Divan of Hafez by Reza Saberi, p. 410)

 

Original:
به مژگان سیه کردی هزاران رخنه در دینم
بیا کز چشم بیمارت هزاران درد برچینم
الا ای همنشین دل که یارانت برفت از یاد
مرا روزی مباد آن دم که بی یاد تو بنشینم
جهان پیر است و بی‌بنیاد از این فرهادکش فریاد
که کرد افسون و نیرنگش ملول از جان شیرینم
ز تاب آتش دوری شدم غرق عرق چون گل
بیار ای باد شبگیری نسیمی زان عرق چینم
جهان فانی و باقی فدای شاهد و ساقی
که سلطانی عالم را طفیل عشق می‌بینم
اگر بر جای من غیری گزیند دوست حاکم اوست
حرامم باد اگر من جان به جای دوست بگزینم
صباح الخیر زد بلبل کجایی ساقیا برخیز
که غوغا می‌کند در سر خیال خواب دوشینم
شب رحلت هم از بستر روم در قصر حورالعین
اگر در وقت جان دادن تو باشی شمع بالینم
حدیث آرزومندی که در این نامه ثبت افتاد
همانا بی‌غلط باشد که حافظ داد تلقینم

 


Working Title/Artist: Divan of Hafiz from Allegory…Drunkenness Department: Islamic Art Culture/Period/Location: HB/TOA Date Code: 08 Working Date: photography by mma, DP167098.tif retouched by film and media (jnc) 9_24_08

 

Ghazal 355:

Translation:

The way I see it, the best thing for me to do now is:
to go to the tavern and sit there happily.

Having no friend nor companion save my book and a cup
so that I see less of the deceitful colleagues.

I boasted of piety so much in my stained robe
that I am shamed by the Saqi’s face and the colorful wine.

I will take the cup of wine and stay away from the hypocrites
That is, of the people of the world, I will choose the one with a pure heart.

If it be possible to gather up my skirt from this world,
I will freely raise my head up above the people like a cypress.

My heart has the dust of many cruelties
O God, do not allow this mirror which is accustomed to love to be tarnished.

If I am the rascal of the tavern or the Hafez of the city,
I am that which you see or even less.

My straightened chest and the burden of his grief? Impossible.
My wretched heart is no match for this heavy burden.

I am the slave of the Asaf of the age. Do not mislead my heart.
For if I complain of the wheel, he will avenge me thereon.

(Translation From The Divan of Hafez by Reza Saberi, p. 411)

hafezallegory

 

Original:

حالیا مصلحت وقت در آن می‌بینم
که کشم رخت به میخانه و خوش بنشینم
جام می گیرم و از اهل ریا دور شوم
یعنی از اهل جهان پاکدلی بگزینم
جز صراحی و کتابم نبود یار و ندیم
تا حریفان دغا را به جهان کم بینم
سر به آزادگی از خلق برآرم چون سرو
گر دهد دست که دامن ز جهان درچینم
بس که در خرقه آلوده زدم لاف صلاح
شرمسار از رخ ساقی و می رنگینم
سینه تنگ من و بار غم او هیهات
مرد این بار گران نیست دل مسکینم
من اگر رند خراباتم و گر زاهد شهر
این متاعم که همی‌بینی و کمتر زینم
بنده آصف عهدم دلم از راه مبر
که اگر دم زنم از چرخ بخواهد کینم
بر دلم گرد ستم‌هاست خدایا مپسند
که مکدر شود آیینه مهرآیینم

 

hafezreadingbook

 

Ghazal 353:

 

Translation:

I will not renounce love, the young beauty, and the cup of wine
I repented a hundred times and will do so no more.

The garden of paradise, the shade of Tuba, and the palace of heavenly maidens,
I will not compare them to the dust of the friend’s street.

The teaching and guidance of men of vision is but an allusion
I said this as a metaphor and will not repeat it again.

I am never conscious of my own head
until I raise it in the middle of a tavern.

The advisor tauntingly told me not to drink wine, it is forbidden.
I said alright. But I do not listen to every donkey.

The Shaykh told me angrily, “Stop falling in love!”
There is no need to quarrel, brother. I will not.

This much piety is enough for me that I do not wink at
the beautiful youths of the city from the top of the pulpit.

Hafez, the Magian Pīr’s side is a stately place
I will not give up kissing the dust of this door.

 

(Translation From The Divan of Hafez by Reza Saberi, p. 409)

 

 

Original:

من ترک عشق شاهد و ساغر نمی‌کنم
صد بار توبه کردم و دیگر نمی‌کنم
باغ بهشت و سایه طوبی و قصر و حور
با خاک کوی دوست برابر نمی‌کنم
تلقین و درس اهل نظر یک اشارت است
گفتم کنایتی و مکرر نمی‌کنم
هرگز نمی‌شود ز سر خود خبر مرا
تا در میان میکده سر بر نمی‌کنم
ناصح به طعن گفت که رو ترک عشق کن
محتاج جنگ نیست برادر نمی‌کنم
این تقویم تمام که با شاهدان شهر
ناز و کرشمه بر سر منبر نمی‌کنم
حافظ جناب پیر مغان جای دولت است
من ترک خاک بوسی این در نمی‌کنم

persianminbeauties

 

Ghazal #1 of Hafez’s Divan

shamosquecieling

This first Ghazal of Hafiz’s Divan is as mysterious as it is beautiful and wise:

 

Translation:

 

O Saqi, come pass the cup ’round and fill it up
        for love seemed easy at first, but then came difficulties
Longing for the sweet scent the morning wind unlocks from her locks
        many a heart filled with blood for the curls of her musky tress
Stain the prayer mat with wine if the Magian Pīr tells you to
        for the traveler knows the rules of the road’s stations
What assurance of joy can I have in the beloved’s home/station?
        when every moment the caravan’s bells cry, “pack up and go!”
Dark night, fearful waves, and whirlpools so terrifying
         how can those lightly-burdened on the shore know our plight?
All my work for my own sake gave me a bad name in the end
         how can the secret told at gatherings remain hidden?
Hafez, if you still desire presence, do not be absent from Him/It.
          When you meet the one you love, leave the world, forget it.

 

turkishwaw

 

Original:

الا یا ایها الساقی ادر کاسا و ناولها
که عشق آسان نمود اول ولی افتاد مشکل‌ها
به بوی نافه‌ای کاخر صبا زان طره بگشاید
ز تاب جعد مشکینش چه خون افتاد در دل‌ها
مرا در منزل جانان چه امن عیش چون هر دم
جرس فریاد می‌دارد که بربندید محمل‌ها
به می سجاده رنگین کن گرت پیر مغان گوید
که سالک بی‌خبر نبود ز راه و رسم منزل‌ها
شب تاریک و بیم موج و گردابی چنین هایل
کجا دانند حال ما سبکباران ساحل‌ها
همه کارم ز خود کامی به بدنامی کشید آخر
نهان کی ماند آن رازی کز او سازند محفل‌ها
حضوری گر همی‌خواهی از او غایب مشو حافظ
متی ما تلق من تهوی دع الدنیا و اهملها

 

 

Great Poetic Translation by A.Z. Foreman:

Come wineboy, bring the cup around and pour the spirit free.
Love, at first sight, looked easy. But it soon got hard for me.
In pining for the musk-sweet scent dawn wind bears from her hair
Such tearful blood wells in the hearts of lovers everywhere.
No chance of rest or pleasure at love’s station in my heart.
Life’s bells already ring outside: make ready to depart.
Stain prayer-mats with wine if the wine-seller tells you to.
Pilgrims must know the way, its every stage, and what to do.
The dread of waves, the dark of night, the maelstrom’s monstrous roar…
How can they know my plight, who stay so carefree on the shore?
All my pursuits for my own pleasure ruined my good name.
When gossip-parties learn your secret, it becomes your shame.
Hafiz! If you so wish to be with Him, then do not hide.
That day you meet the One you yearn for, cast this world aside.

 

From: http://poemsintranslation.blogspot.com/2011/08/hafiz-ghazal-1-ars-poetica-from-persian.html

 

 

 

Hafez sung beautifully

hafezieh

This is one of the most beautiful recordings of Hafez’s ghazals that I’ve ever heard:

 

Translation:

 

As long as there is a name and sign on the tavern
My head will be dust on the road of the Magian Pīr
The ring of the Magian Pīr has been in my ear since pre-eternity
I am as I was and will be as I am
When you pass by my grave, pray for a blessing
For this place will be the shrine of the world’s scoundrels
Go away, O self-seeing ascetic! The mystery behind this veil
Is hidden form your eyes and mine, and will remain so
My Turk, the lover-slayer went out drunk today
I wonder what other person’s blood will run from his eye
from the night my head is laid in the grave
till the morning of the Resurrection, my eye will be anxious to see you
If Hafez’s luck helps him in this way,
The Beloved’s tress will be in the hands of the others.

 

(modified from the translation in The Divan of Hafez by Reza Saberi p. 245)

 

640px-Hafezieh_tomb_inside_ceiling

 

Original:

تا ز میخانه و می نام و نشان خواهد بود
سر ما خاک ره پیر مغان خواهد بود
حلقه پیر مغان از ازلم در گوش است
بر همانیم که بودیم و همان خواهد بود
بر سر تربت ما چون گذری همت خواه
که زیارتگه رندان جهان خواهد بود
برو ای زاهد خودبین که ز چشم من و تو
راز این پرده نهان است و نهان خواهد بود
ترک عاشق کش من مست برون رفت امروز
تا دگر خون که از دیده روان خواهد بود
چشمم آن دم که ز شوق تو نهد سر به لحد
تا دم صبح قیامت نگران خواهد بود
بخت حافظ گر از این گونه مدد خواهد کرد
زلف معشوقه به دست دگران خواهد بود

 

hafeziehsnow

The Lovers’ Anthem

 

This incredibly beautiful, and incredibly rich, ghazal of Hafez is my current favorite:

 

Translation:
When you hear the speech of the people of the heart, do not say that it is wrong
the problem is, my dear, that you do not understand this speech.
My head bows neither to this world nor the next
Praise God for these troubles that boil in my head.
I do not know who is within poor heartbroken me
For while I am silent, he roars and clamors.
My heart came out from the veil. Where are you o minstrel?
Play a tune, for my well-being depends on your scale.
I never paid any attention to the affairs of this world
In my sight, your face adorned it so beautifully.
Many nights I have not slept because of my fantasies
I have a hundred-night hangover, where is the tavern?
So defiled is the monastery by my heart’s blood that
You would have the right to wash me with wine.
The reason they hold me dear in the Magian’s house is:
The fire that never dies is ever in my heart.
What was the melody the minstrel played last night?
Though time has passed, my head is still full of that tune.
Last night, your love’s voice sang out in my heart
and the space in my breast is still full of its echoes.

Original:
چو بشنوی سخن اهل دل مگو که خطاست
سخن شناس نه‌ای جان من خطا این جاست
سرم به دنیی و عقبی فرو نمی‌آید
تبارک الله از این فتنه‌ها که در سر ماست
در اندرون من خسته دل ندانم کیست
که من خموشم و او در فغان و در غوغاست
دلم ز پرده برون شد کجایی ای مطرب
بنال هان که از این پرده کار ما به نواست
مرا به کار جهان هرگز التفات نبود
رخ تو در نظر من چنین خوشش آراست
نخفته‌ام ز خیالی که می‌پزد دل من
خمار صدشبه دارم شرابخانه کجاست
چنین که صومعه آلوده شد ز خون دلم
گرم به باده بشویید حق به دست شماست
از آن به دیر مغانم عزیز می‌دارند
که آتشی که نمیرد همیشه در دل ماست
چه ساز بود که در پرده می‌زد آن مطرب
که رفت عمر و هنوزم دماغ پر ز هواست
ندای عشق تو دیشب در اندرون دادند
فضای سینه حافظ هنوز پر ز صداست

 

Nightingale: Keats and Hafez

nightingale

 Hafez sang:
بلبلى خون جگر خورد و گلى حاصل كرد
باد غيرت به صادش خار پريشان دل كرد
طوطيى را به خيال شكرى دل خوش بود
ناگهش سيل فنا نقش امل باطل كرد

Gertrude Bell’s translation:

The nightingale with drops of his heart’s blood
Had nourished the red rose, then came a wind,
And catching at the boughs in envious mood,
a hundred thorns about his heart entwined.
Like to the parrot crunching sugar, good
Seemed the world to me who could not stay
The wind of Death that swept my hopes away.

 

Compare with this beautiful recitation of Keats’ Ode to a Nightingale:

 

Ode to a Nightingale

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
         My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
         One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:
‘Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
         But being too happy in thine happiness,—
                That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees
                        In some melodious plot
         Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,
                Singest of summer in full-throated ease.
O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been
         Cool’d a long age in the deep-delved earth,
Tasting of Flora and the country green,
         Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth!
O for a beaker full of the warm South,
         Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,
                With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,
                        And purple-stained mouth;
         That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,
                And with thee fade away into the forest dim:
Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget
         What thou among the leaves hast never known,
The weariness, the fever, and the fret
         Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;
Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,
         Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;
                Where but to think is to be full of sorrow
                        And leaden-eyed despairs,
         Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,
                Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.
Away! away! for I will fly to thee,
         Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,
But on the viewless wings of Poesy,
         Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:
Already with thee! tender is the night,
         And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,
                Cluster’d around by all her starry Fays;
                        But here there is no light,
         Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown
                Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.
I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,
         Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,
But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet
         Wherewith the seasonable month endows
The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;
         White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;
                Fast fading violets cover’d up in leaves;
                        And mid-May’s eldest child,
         The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,
                The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.
Darkling I listen; and, for many a time
         I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Call’d him soft names in many a mused rhyme,
         To take into the air my quiet breath;
                Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
         To cease upon the midnight with no pain,
                While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad
                        In such an ecstasy!
         Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain—
                   To thy high requiem become a sod.
Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!
         No hungry generations tread thee down;
The voice I hear this passing night was heard
         In ancient days by emperor and clown:
Perhaps the self-same song that found a path
         Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,
                She stood in tears amid the alien corn;
                        The same that oft-times hath
         Charm’d magic casements, opening on the foam
                Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.
Forlorn! the very word is like a bell
         To toll me back from thee to my sole self!
Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well
         As she is fam’d to do, deceiving elf.
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
         Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
                Up the hill-side; and now ’tis buried deep
                        In the next valley-glades:
         Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
                Fled is that music:—Do I wake or sleep?

 

chnese nightingale

 

 

Hafez

Translation:
Weep, O Nightingale, if you wish to be my friend
For we are two helpless lovers, whose work is weeping
In that land where the breeze blows from the beloved’s locks
what room is there for boasting of the musk of Tartar?
Bring wine so we can dye our cloak of hypocrisy
We are drunk form the cup of arrogance and we call it sobriety
Cherishing the thought of your hair is not for the novice
going under the chain is the way of the elite
There is a hidden subtlety that gives rise to love
whose name is neither ruby lip nor auburn cheek’s down
A person’s beauty is not in the eye nor face, nor cheek, nor hair
there are a thousand fine points in this work of beauties
The Qalandars of Truth do not buy, for half a barley corn,
the silk robe of the person who is without art
It is difficult to reach your doorstep
ascension to the heaven of joy is difficult
At dawn I dreamt of the seductive glance of your eye
Ah, some stages of sleep are better than being awake…
Do not harm his heart with your wailing, hush now Hafez
For eternal salvation lies in doing the least harm

 

 

 

Original:

بنال بلبل اگر با منت سر یاریست
که ما دو عاشق زاریم و کار ما زاریست

در آن زمین که نسیمی وزد ز طره دوست
چه جای دم زدن نافه‌های تاتاریست

بیار باده که رنگین کنیم جامه زرق
که مست جام غروریم و نام هشیاریست

خیال زلف تو پختن نه کار هر خامیست
که زیر سلسله رفتن طریق عیاریست

لطیفه‌ایست نهانی که عشق از او خیزد
که نام آن نه لب لعل و خط زنگاریست

جمال شخص نه چشم است و زلف و عارض و خال
هزار نکته در این کار و بار دلداریست

قلندران حقیقت به نیم جو نخرند
قبای اطلس آن کس که از هنر عاریست

بر آستان تو مشکل توان رسید آری
عروج بر فلک سروری به دشواریست

سحر کرشمه چشمت به خواب می‌دیدم
زهی مراتب خوابی که به ز بیداریست

دلش به ناله میازار و ختم کن حافظ
که رستگاری جاوید در کم آزاریست

japansingnightingale

 

`

Translation:
At dawn, the nightingale complained to the breeze, saying:
“Oh the things that loving the rose’s face has done to me…”
It pulled off the veil of the rose and brushed away the tress of the hyacinth
and opened the knot of the cord of the bud’s robe
The lover nightingale cried out in all directions
But it was the breeze that was blessed from this
Blessed be the morning breeze that
remedied the pain of those who stay awake at night
No more will I complain of strangers
for any wrong to me was done my that dear one
If I coveted a favor from the sultan, it was a mistake
If I sought faithfulness from the beloved, she was cruel.
I am the slave of the generous spirit of that dear one
Who did good deeds without pretension and hypocrisy
take the good news to the winesellers’ street
That Hafez repented of pretentious abstinence

 

 

Original:

سحر بلبل حکایت با صبا کرد
که عشق روی گل با ما چه‌ها کرد
از آن رنگ رخم خون در دل افتاد
وز آن گلشن به خارم مبتلا کرد
غلام همت آن نازنینم
که کار خیر بی روی و ریا کرد
من از بیگانگان دیگر ننالم
که با من هر چه کرد آن آشنا کرد
گر از سلطان طمع کردم خطا بود
ور از دلبر وفا جستم جفا کرد
خوشش باد آن نسیم صبحگاهی
که درد شب نشینان را دوا کرد
نقاب گل کشید و زلف سنبل
گره بند قبای غنچه وا کرد
به هر سو بلبل عاشق در افغان
تنعم از میان باد صبا کرد
بشارت بر به کوی می فروشان
که حافظ توبه از زهد ریا کرد

 

 

chinesenightingale

Translation:
I went to the garden one morning to pick a rose
and suddenly heard a nightingale’s song.
Like me, the poor bird had fallen in love with a rose
and in the field, raised a commotion with his cries.
And as I walked through that field and garden
I thought on that rose and nightingale.
The rose befriended beauty, and the nightingale, love
neither showed any signs of changing.
As the song of the nightingale entered my heart,
it got to the point where I could stand it no longer.
Many roses bloom in this garden, but
none plucks a rose without the pain of a thorn.
Hafez, harbor hope of deliverance from this cycle of existence
It has a thousand flaws and not one redeeming virtue.

Original:

رفتم به باغ صبحدمی تا چنم گلی
آمد به گوش ناگهم آواز بلبلی
مسکین چو من به عشق گلی گشته مبتلا
و اندر چمن فکنده ز فریاد غلغلی
می‌گشتم اندر آن چمن و باغ دم به دم
می‌کردم اندر آن گل و بلبل تاملی
گل یار حسن گشته و بلبل قرین عشق
آن را تفضلی نه و این را تبدلی
چون کرد در دلم اثر آواز عندلیب
گشتم چنان که هیچ نماندم تحملی
بس گل شکفته می‌شود این باغ را ولی
کس بی بلای خار نچیده‌ست از او گلی
حافظ مدار امید فرج از مدار كون
دارد هزار عیب و ندارد تفضلی


Translation:
“Ask for wine and throw flowers. What else do you want from time?”
The rose said this at dawn, O nightingale, what do you say?
Take your seat in the rose garden so that you may kiss
the beauty and the Saqi on the lip and cheek and drink wine and smell roses
Upon whom will your smiling bud bestow its fortune
O elegant rose, for whose sake do you grow?
Each bird comes to the king’s rose garden with a tale
The nightingale with his song and Hafez with his prayer.

 

Original:
می خواه و گل افشان کن از دهر چه می‌جویی
این گفت سحرگه گل بلبل تو چه می‌گویی
مسند به گلستان بر تا شاهد و ساقی را
لب گیری و رخ بوسی می نوشی و گل بویی
تا غنچه خندانت دولت به که خواهد داد
ای شاخ گل رعنا از بهر که می‌رویی
هر مرغ به دستانی در گلشن شاه آمد
بلبل به نواسازی حافظ به غزل گویی
japannightingale

 

Camaron

 

Translation:

Step into that corner
where the gnats do not bite
I do not care about anyone
but you, my little dear

In the Moorish quarter
Juanola le puso el cura
Juanola pa to la vía.

I saw the flowers cry
when you entered the garden,
because the flowers would all like
to look like you.

Keep away from the people
who do not know our love,
the farther you are from the saint,
the closer to devotion.

And the day you were born
all the flowers bloomed
and at the baptismal font
nightingales sang.

nightgalepersianmin

Original:

Lerelere lele…aay

Métete en aquel rincón
donde las mosquitas no te coman
cuenta yo no le doy a nadie
primita de tu persona.

De la morería
Juanola le puso el cura
Juanola pa to la vía.

Al verte las flores lloran
cuando entras tu al jardín,
porque las flores quisieran
toítas parecerse a ti.

Retírate que la gente
no conozca nuestro amor,
contra más lejos esté el santo
más cerca la devoción.

Y el día que tú naciste
nacieron toítas las flores
y en la pila de bautismo
cantaron los ruiseñores.

nightingale

I carry your heart

This lovely poem by e.e. cummings sounds like it could have been written by Rumi:

[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]

by e.e. cummings

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
                                                      i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

 

young_lovers
Rumi

Translation:
Stealthily as the soul, you are going in the midst of my soul; O luster of my garden, you are my gracefully moving cypress.
When you go, go not without me; soul of my soul, go not without my body, and depart not out of my sight, O my blazing torch.
I tear up the seven heavens and pass beyond the seven seas, when lovingly you gaze into my giddy soul.
Since you came into my bosom, infidelity and faith are my servitors, O you whose vision is my religion, whose face is my faith.
You have made me headless and footless, you have made me sleepless and foodless;
enter drunken and laughing, O my Joseph of Canaan.
Through your grace I have become soul-like and have become hidden from myself,
O you whose being has become hidden in my hidden being.
The rose rends its garment because of you, O you with whom the narcissus’ eye is intoxicated, of whom the branches are pregnant, O you my infinite garden.
One moment you brand me, the next you draw me into the garden; you draw me before the lamp so that my eyes may be opened.
O soul before all souls, O mine before all mines, O moment before all moments, O my very own, O my very own!
 Our resting place is not earth; though the body crumbles, it matters not. My thought is not the skies, O you, union with whom is my heaven.
The grave of mariners is the sea forevermore; in the water of life where is death, O you, my Sea, my Ocean?
O you whose scent is in my sigh, whose sigh is my fellow traveler, in the hope of my Emperor color and scent have become distraught with me.
My soul, since like a mote in the air it has become separated from all heaviness, why should it be without you, O origin of my four elements?
O my king Ṣalāh al-Dīn, you who know my way and see my way, you who are free of concern with my little dignity, loftier than my potentiality.

 

 

 

 

Original:
دزدیده چون جان می روی اندر میان جان من
سرو خرامان منی ای رونق بستان من
چون می روی بی‌من مرو ای جان جان بی‌تن مرو
وز چشم من بیرون مشو ای شعله تابان من
هفت آسمان را بردرم وز هفت دریا بگذرم
چون دلبرانه بنگری در جان سرگردان من
تا آمدی اندر برم شد کفر و ایمان چاکرم
ای دیدن تو دین من وی روی تو ایمان من
بی‌پا و سر کردی مرا بی‌خواب و خور کردی مرا
سرمست و خندان اندرآ ای یوسف کنعان من
از لطف تو چو جان شدم وز خویشتن پنهان شدم
ای هست تو پنهان شده در هستی پنهان من
گل جامه در از دست تو ای چشم نرگس مست تو
ای شاخ‌ها آبست تو ای باغ بی‌پایان من
یک لحظه داغم می کشی یک دم به باغم می کشی
پیش چراغم می کشی تا وا شود چشمان من
ای جان پیش از جان‌ها وی کان پیش از کان‌ها
ای آن پیش از آن‌ها ای آن من ای آن من
منزلگه ما خاک نی گر تن بریزد باک نی
اندیشه‌ام افلاک نی ای وصل تو کیوان من
مر اهل کشتی را لحد در بحر باشد تا ابد
در آب حیوان مرگ کو ای بحر من عمان من
ای بوی تو در آه من وی آه تو همراه من
بر بوی شاهنشاه من شد رنگ و بو حیران من
جانم چو ذره در هوا چون شد ز هر ثقلی جدا
بی‌تو چرا باشد چرا ای اصل چار ارکان من
ای شه صلاح الدین من ره دان من ره بین من
ای فارغ از تمکین من ای برتر از امکان من

 

 

Moses and the Shepherd

One my favorite stories from the Masnavi, its dialectic is brilliant and dizzying…

yazd cieling

Translation:

How Moses, on whom be peace, took offence at the prayer of the shepherd.

1720. Moses saw a shepherd on the way, who was saying, “O God who choosest (whom Thou wilt),
Where art Thou, that I may become Thy servant and sew Thy shoes and comb Thy head? That I may wash Thy clothes and kill Thy lice and bring milk to Thee, O worshipful One; That I may kiss Thy little hand and rub Thy little foot, (and when) bedtime comes I may sweep Thy little room,
O Thou to whom all my goats be a sacrifice, O Thou in remembrance of whom are my cries of ay and ah!”

 

1725. The shepherd was speaking foolish words in this wise. Moses said, “Man, to whom is this (addressed)?”
He answered, “To that One who created us; by whom this earth and sky were brought to sight.”
“Hark!” said Moses, “you have become very backsliding (depraved); indeed you have not become a Moslem, you have become an infidel.
What babble is this? what blasphemy and raving? Stuff some cotton into your mouth!
The stench of your blasphemy has made the (whole) world stinking: your blasphemy has turned the silk robe of religion into rags.

 

1730. Shoes and socks are fitting for you, (but) how are such things right for (One who is) a Sun?
If you do not stop your throat from (uttering) these words, a fire will come and burn up the people.
If a fire has not come, (then) what is this smoke? Why has your soul become black and your spirit rejected (by God)?
If you know that God is the Judge, how is it right for you (to indulge in) this doting talk and familiarity?
Truly, the friendship of a witless man is enmity: the high God is not in want of suchlike service.

 

1735. To whom are you saying this? To your paternal and maternal uncles? Are the body and (its) needs among the attributes of the Lord of glory?
(Only) he that is waxing and growing drinks milk: (only) he that has need of feet puts on shoes.
And if these words (of yours) are (meant) for His servant, of whom God said, ‘He is I and I myself am he’;
(For him) of whom He (God) said, ‘Verily, I was sick and thou didst not visit Me,’ (that is), ‘I became ill, not he (the sick man) alone’;
(For him) who has become seeing by Me and hearing by Me— this (talk of yours) is foolish nonsense even in regard to that servant.

 

1740. To speak irreverently to one chosen of God causes the heart (spirit) to perish and keeps the page (record) black.
If you should call a man ‘Fátima’—though men and women are all of one kind—
He will seek to murder you, so far as it is possible (for him), albeit he is good-natured and forbearing and quiet.
(The name) Fátima is (a term of) praise in regard to women, (but) if you address it to a man, ’tis (like) the blow of a spearhead.
Hand and foot are (terms of) praise in relation to us; in relation to the holiness of God they are pollution.

 

1745. (The words) He begat not, He was not begotten are appropriate to Him: He is the Creator of begetter and begotten.
Birth is the attribute of everything that is (a) body: whatever is born is on this side of the river,
Because it is of (the world of) becoming and decay and (is) contemptible: it is originated and certainly requires an Originator.”
He (the shepherd) said, “O Moses, thou hast closed my mouth and thou hast burned my soul with repentance.”
He rent his garment and heaved a sigh, and hastily turned his head towards the desert and went (his way).

 

How God rebuked Moses, on whom be peace, on account of the shepherd.

1750. A revelation came to Moses from God—“Thou hast parted My servant from Me.
Didst thou come (as a prophet) to unite, or didst thou come to sever?
So far as thou canst, do not set foot in separation: of (all) things the most hateful to Me is divorce.
I have bestowed on every one a (special) way of acting: I have given to every one a (peculiar) form of expression.
In regard to him it is (worthy of) praise, and in regard to thee it is (worthy of) blame: in regard to him honey, and in regard to thee poison.

 

1755. I am independent of all purity and impurity, of all slothfulness and alacrity (in worshipping Me).
I did not ordain (Divine worship) that I might make any profit; nay, but that I might do a kindness to (My) servants.
In the Hindoos the idiom of Hind (India) is praiseworthy; in the Sindians the idiom of Sind is praiseworthy.
I am not sanctified by their glorification (of Me); ’tis they that become sanctified and pearl-scattering (pure and radiant).
I look not at the tongue and the speech; I look at the inward (spirit) and the state (of feeling).
1760. I gaze into the heart (to see) whether it be lowly,
though the words uttered be not lowly, Because the heart is the substance, speech (only) the accident; so the accident is subservient, the substance is the (real) object.
How much (more) of these phrases and conceptions and metaphors? I want burning, burning: become friendly with that burning!
Light up a fire of love in thy soul, burn thought and expression entirely (away)!
O Moses, they that know the conventions are of one sort, they whose souls and spirits burn are of another sort.”

 

1765. To lovers there is a burning (which consumes them) at every moment: tax and tithe are not (imposed) on a ruined village.
If he (the lover) speak faultily, do not call him faulty; and if he be bathed in blood, do not wash (those who are) martyrs.
For martyrs, blood is better than water: this fault (committed by him) is better than a hundred right actions (of another).
Within the Ka‘ba the rule of the qibla does not exist: what matter if the diver has no snow-shoes?
Do not seek guidance from the drunken: why dost thou order those whose garments are rent in pieces to mend them?

 

1770. The religion of Love is apart from all religions: for lovers, the (only) religion and creed is God.
If the ruby have not a seal (graven on it), ’tis no harm: Love in the sea of sorrow is not sorrowful.

 

How the (Divine) revelation came to Moses, on whom be peace, excusing that shepherd.

After that, God hid in the inmost heart of Moses mysteries which cannot be spoken. Words were poured upon his heart: vision and speech were mingled together.

How oft did he become beside himself and how oft return to himself! How oft did he fly from eternity to everlastingness!

 

1775. If I should unfold (his tale) after this, ’tis foolishness (in me), because the explanation of this is beyond (our) understanding;
And if I should speak (thereof), ’twould root up (men’s) minds; and if I should write (thereof), ’twould shatter many pens.
When Moses heard these reproaches from God, he ran into the desert in quest of the shepherd.
He pushed on over the footprints of the bewildered man, he scattered dust from the skirt of the desert.
The footstep of a man distraught is, in truth, distinct from the footsteps of others:

 

1780. (At) one step, (he moves) like the rook (straight) from top to bottom (of the chessboard); (at) one step he goes crossways, like the bishop;
Now lifting his crest like a wave; now going on his belly like a fish;
Now writing (a description of) his state on some dust, like a geomancer who takes an omen by drawing lines (on earth or sand).
At last he (Moses) overtook and beheld him; the giver of glad news said, “Permission has come (from God).
Do not seek any rules or method (of worship); say whatsoever your distressful heart desires.

 

1785. Your blasphemy is (the true) religion, and your religion is the light of the spirit: you are saved, and through you a (whole) world is in salvation.
O you who are made secure by God doeth whatso He willeth, go, loose your tongue without regard (for what you say).”
He said, “O Moses, I have passed beyond that: I am now bathed in (my) heart’s blood.
I have passed beyond the Lote-tree of the farthest bourn, I have gone a hundred thousand years’ journey on the other side.
Thou didst ply the lash, and my horse shied, made a bound, and passed beyond the sky.

 

1790. May the Divine Nature be intimate with my human nature— blessings be on thy hand and on thine arm!
Now my state is beyond telling: this which I am telling is not my (real) state.”
You behold the image which is in a mirror: it is your (own) image, it is not the image of the mirror.
The breath which the flute-player puts into the flute—does it belong to the flute? No, it belongs to the man (the flute-player).
Take good heed! Whether you speak praise (of God) or thanksgiving, know that it is even as the unseemly (words) of that shepherd.

-Translation by R.A. Nicholson

Jame_mosque_yazd_tilework

Original:

دید موسی یک شبانی را براه
کو همی‌گفت ای گزیننده اله
تو کجایی تا شوم من چاکرت
چارقت دوزم کنم شانه سرت
جامه‌ات شویم شپشهاات کشم
شیر پیشت آورم ای محتشم
دستکت بوسم بمالم پایکت
وقت خواب آید بروبم جایکت
ای فدای تو همه بزهای من
ای بیادت هیهی و هیهای من
این نمط بیهوده می‌گفت آن شبان
گفت موسی با کی است این ای فلان
گفت با آنکس که ما را آفرید
این زمین و چرخ ازو آمد پدید
گفت موسی های بس مدبر شدی
خود مسلمان ناشده کافر شدی
این چه ژاژست این چه کفرست و فشار
پنبه‌ای اندر دهان خود فشار
گند کفر تو جهان را گنده کرد
کفر تو دیبای دین را ژنده کرد
چارق و پاتابه لایق مر تراست
آفتابی را چنینها کی رواست
گر نبندی زین سخن تو حلق را
آتشی آید بسوزد خلق را
آتشی گر نامدست این دود چیست
جان سیه گشته روان مردود چیست
گر همی‌دانی که یزدان داورست
ژاژ و گستاخی ترا چون باورست
دوستی بی‌خرد خود دشمنیست
حق تعالی زین چنین خدمت غنیست
با کی می‌گویی تو این با عم و خال
جسم و حاجت در صفات ذوالجلال
شیر او نوشد که در نشو و نماست
چارق او پوشد که او محتاج پاست
ور برای بنده‌شست این گفت تو
آنک حق گفت او منست و من خود او
آنک گفت انی مرضت لم تعد
من شدم رنجور او تنها نشد
آنک بی یسمع و بی یبصر شده‌ست
در حق آن بنده این هم بیهده‌ست
بی ادب گفتن سخن با خاص حق
دل بمیراند سیه دارد ورق
گر تو مردی را بخوانی فاطمه
گرچه یک جنس‌اند مرد و زن همه
قصد خون تو کند تا ممکنست
گرچه خوش‌خو و حلیم و ساکنست
فاطمه مدحست در حق زنان
مرد را گویی بود زخم سنان
دست و پا در حق ما استایش است
در حق پاکی حق آلایش است
لم یلد لم یولد او را لایق است
والد و مولود را او خالق است
هرچه جسم آمد ولادت وصف اوست
هرچه مولودست او زین سوی جوست
زانک از کون و فساد است و مهین
حادثست و محدثی خواهد یقین
گفت ای موسی دهانم دوختی
وز پشیمانی تو جانم سوختی
جامه را بدرید و آهی کرد تفت
سر نهاد اندر بیابانی و رفت

 

وحی آمد سوی موسی از خدا
بندهٔ ما را ز ما کردی جدا
تو برای وصل کردن آمدی
یا برای فصل کردن آمدی
تا توانی پا منه اندر فراق
ابغض الاشیاء عندی الطلاق
هر کسی را سیرتی بنهاده‌ام
هر کسی را اصطلاحی داده‌ام
در حق او مدح و در حق تو ذم
در حق او شهد و در حق تو سم
ما بری از پاک و ناپاکی همه
از گرانجانی و چالاکی همه
من نکردم امر تا سودی کنم
بلک تا بر بندگان جودی کنم
هندوان را اصطلاح هند مدح
سندیان را اصطلاح سند مدح
من نگردم پاک از تسبیحشان
پاک هم ایشان شوند و درفشان
ما زبان را ننگریم و قال را
ما روان را بنگریم و حال را
ناظر قلبیم اگر خاشع بود
گرچه گفت لفظ ناخاضع رود
زانک دل جوهر بود گفتن عرض
پس طفیل آمد عرض جوهر غرض
چند ازین الفاظ و اضمار و مجاز
سوز خواهم سوز با آن سوز ساز
آتشی از عشق در جان بر فروز
سر بسر فکر و عبارت را بسوز
موسیا آداب‌دانان دیگرند
سوخته جان و روانان دیگرند
عاشقان را هر نفس سوزیدنیست
بر ده ویران خراج و عشر نیست
گر خطا گوید ورا خاطی مگو
گر بود پر خون شهید او را مشو
خون شهیدان را ز آب اولیترست
این خطا را صد صواب اولیترست
در درون کعبه رسم قبله نیست
چه غم از غواص را پاچیله نیست
تو ز سرمستان قلاوزی مجو
جامه‌چاکان را چه فرمایی رفو
ملت عشق از همه دینها جداست
عاشقان را ملت و مذهب خداست
لعل را گر مهر نبود باک نیست
عشق در دریای غم غمناک نیست

 

بعد از آن در سر موسی حق نهفت
رازهایی گفت کان ناید به گفت
بر دل موسی سخنها ریختند
دیدن و گفتن بهم آمیختند
چند بی‌خود گشت و چند آمد بخود
چند پرید از ازل سوی ابد
بعد ازین گر شرح گویم ابلهیست
زانک شرح این ورای آگهیست
ور بگویم عقلها را بر کند
ور نویسم بس قلمها بشکند
چونک موسی این عتاب از حق شنید
در بیابان در پی چوپان دوید
بر نشان پای آن سرگشته راند
گرد از پرهٔ بیابان بر فشاند
گام پای مردم شوریده خود
هم ز گام دیگران پیدا بود
یک قدم چون رخ ز بالا تا نشیب
یک قدم چون پیل رفته بر وریب
گاه چون موجی بر افرازان علم
گاه چون ماهی روانه بر شکم
گاه بر خاکی نبشته حال خود
همچو رمالی که رملی بر زند
عاقبت دریافت او را و بدید
گفت مژده ده که دستوری رسید
هیچ آدابی و ترتیبی مجو
هرچه می‌خواهد دل تنگت بگو
کفر تو دینست و دینت نور جان
آمنی وز تو جهانی در امان
ای معاف یفعل الله ما یشا
بی‌محابا رو زبان را بر گشا
گفت ای موسی از آن بگذشته‌ام
من کنون در خون دل آغشته‌ام
من ز سدرهٔ منتهی بگذشته‌ام
صد هزاران ساله زان سو رفته‌ام
تازیانه بر زدی اسپم بگشت
گنبدی کرد و ز گردون بر گذشت
محرم ناسوت ما لاهوت باد
آفرین بر دست و بر بازوت باد
حال من اکنون برون از گفتنست
اینچ می‌گویم نه احوال منست
نقش می‌بینی که در آیینه‌ایست
نقش تست آن نقش آن آیینه نیست
دم که مرد نایی اندر نای کرد
درخور نایست نه درخورد مرد
هان و هان گر حمد گویی گر سپاس
همچو نافرجام آن چوپان شناس

nasr-i molk cieling

Bright Night, Dark Day

namibdesert

Shabistari

The Rose Garden of Mystery (verses 122-130)

Reason’s light applied to the Essence of Lights
is like the eye of the head looking at the brilliance of the Sun
when the object seen is very close to the eye
The eye is darkened so that it cannot see it

This blackness, if you know it, is the very light of Being

in the land of darkness is the fountain of life
Since the darkness destroys the light of vision
Give up loooking, for this is no place for looking
What connection has dust with the pure world?
Its perception is the inability to perceive perception
What shall I say? since this saying is fine,
“A bright night in the midst of a dark day”
In this place of witnessing, which is the light of manifestation
 I have much to say, but silence is best.

 

Spain 2003 6 Alhambra Palace (4)

 

Original:

بود نور خرد در ذات انور              به سان چشم سر در چشمه خور
چو مبصر با بصر نزدیک گردد              بصر ز ادراک آن تاریک گردد
سیاهی گر بدانی نور ذات است              به تاریکی درون آب حیات است
سیه جز قابض نور بصر نیست               نظر بگذار کین جای نظر نیست
چه نسبت خاک را با عالم پاک        که ادراک است عجز از درک ادراک
سیه رویی ز ممکن در دو عالم                       جدا هرگز نشد والله اعلم
سواد الوجه فی الدارین درویش                 سواد اعظم آمد بی کم و بیش
چه می‌گویم که هست این نکته باریک              شب روشن میان روز تاریک
در این مشهد که انوار تجلی است           سخن دارم ولی نا گفتن اولی است

 

nasrmolkmosque

 

Ibn al-Fāriḍ

Translation:

If he should visit one day, o my heart, tear yourself to shreds in love for him
            and if he should leave, o eye, pour out tears
But there is no harm in distance, for the one I love is with me
             For if he be absent from the pupil of my eye, yet still he is in me

 

Original:

إنْ زارَ، يوماً ياحَشايَ تَقَطَّعي،     كَلَفاً بهِ، أو سارَ، يا عينُ اذرِفي
ما للنّوى ذّنْبٌ، ومَنْ أهوى مَعي،       إنْ غابَ عنْ إنسانِ عيني فهوَ في

 

namibdesert2

 

Shakespeare

Sonnet 43

When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see,
For all the day they view things unrespected;
But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee,
And darkly bright, are bright in dark directed.
Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright,
How would thy shadow’s form form happy show
To the clear day with thy much clearer light,
When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so!
How would, I say, mine eyes be blessed made
By looking on thee in the living day,
When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade
Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay!
       All days are nights to see till I see thee,
       And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.

 

mi'raj

Rumi and Bossa Nova

gdesign

Baden Powell and Vinicius de Moraes

Translation:

Me without you, there’s no reason
Because without you, I can’t even cry
I’m flame without light, garden without moonlight
Moonlight without love, love that’s not given

And without you I’m only lovelorn
A ship without sea, a field without flower
Sadness that goes, sadness that comes
Without you, my love, I’m no one

Ah, what longing
How I wish to see our life reborn
Come back, darling
My arms need yours
Your arms need mine

I’m so alone
My eyes weary of looking into the distance
Come see life
Without you, my love, I’m no one
Without you, my love, I’m no one

Original:

Eu sem você não tenho porquê
Porque sem você não sei nem chorar
Sou chama sem luz, jardim sem luar
Luar sem amor, amor sem se dar

Em sem você sou só desamor
Um barco sem mar, um campo sem flor
Tristeza que vai, tristeza que vem
Sem você, meu amor, eu não sou ninguém

Ah, que saudade
Que vontade de ver renascer nossa vida
Volta, querida
Os meus braços precisam dos teus
Teus braços precisam dos meus

Estou tão sozinho
Tenho os olhos cansados de olhar para o além
Vem ver a vida
Sem você, meu amor, eu não sou ninguém
Sem você, meu amor, eu não sou ninguém.

Lyrics From:

 http://lyricstranslate.com/en/samba-em-p…

More about the song here

 

 

biihamegan

Rumi

Translation:

I can be without anyone, but without you, I just can’t
My wand’ring heart bears your brand, go without you, it just can’t
Reason’s eye is drunk off you, Heaven’s wheel whirls under your thumb
Pleasure’s nose is in your hand, but without you, I just can’t
From you, the soul comes to a boil, and from you, the heart is fed
From you, reason starts to roar, but without you, I just can’t
You’re my wine and poison, my garden and spring
My sleep and my resting place, and without you, I just can’t
You’re my rank and my glory, dominion and wealth
You’re my crystal water, and without you, I just can’t
Sometimes you are faithful, and sometimes you’re untrue
Where are you going without me? For I just can’t, without you
They offer their hearts, you take it; they make repentance, you break it
All this and still more you do, but I just can’t, without you
If it were possible to be without you, the whole world would turn inside-out
The Garden of Eden would be a hell, for I just can’t, without you
If you’re the head, I’ll be the foot; if the hand, then I’m your flag
If you go, I’ll be nothing, for without you, I just can’t
You’ve bewitched me from my sleep, you’ve erased my own outline
You’ve cut me off from everything, for without you, I just can’t
If you won’t be my partner, all my work will lie in ruin
My companion and comfort—without you, I simply can’t
Without you, there’s no joy in life, nor is there relief in death
How can I kill my grief for you, when without you, I simply can’t?
Whatever I say, o my love, is not separate from my good and bad
From your sweet kindness, won’t you please say too:
That I simply cannot be without you

 

 

 

 

Original:

بی همگان به سر شود بی‌تو به سر نمی‌شود
داغ تو دارد این دلم جای دگر نمی‌شود
دیده عقل مست تو چرخه چرخ پست تو
گوش طرب به دست تو بی‌تو به سر نمی‌شود
جان ز تو جوش می‌کند دل ز تو نوش می‌کند
عقل خروش می‌کند بی‌تو به سر نمی‌شود
خمر من و خمار من باغ من و بهار من
خواب من و قرار من بی‌تو به سر نمی‌شود
جاه و جلال من تویی ملکت و مال من تویی
آب زلال من تویی بی‌تو به سر نمی‌شود
گاه سوی وفا روی گاه سوی جفا روی
آن منی کجا روی بی‌تو به سر نمی‌شود
دل بنهند برکنی توبه کنند بشکنی
این همه خود تو می‌کنی بی‌تو به سر نمی‌شود
بی تو اگر به سر شدی زیر جهان زبر شدی
باغ ارم سقر شدی بی‌تو به سر نمی‌شود
گر تو سری قدم شوم ور تو کفی علم شوم
ور بروی عدم شوم بی‌تو به سر نمی‌شود
خواب مرا ببسته‌ای نقش مرا بشسته‌ای
وز همه‌ام گسسته‌ای بی‌تو به سر نمی‌شود
گر تو نباشی یار من گشت خراب کار من
مونس و غمگسار من بی‌تو به سر نمی‌شود
بی تو نه زندگی خوشم بی‌تو نه مردگی خوشم
سر ز غم تو چون کشم بی‌تو به سر نمی‌شود
هر چه بگویم ای سند نیست جدا ز نیک و بد
هم تو بگو به لطف خود بی‌تو به سر نمی‌شود