And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips, bidding adieu

Hafez
Come tell me what it is that I have gained
From loving you,
Apart from losing all the faith I had
And knowledge too?

 

Though longing for you scatters on the wind
All my life’s work
Still, by the dust on your dear feet, I have
kept faith with you

 

And even though I’m just a tiny mote
In love’s great kingdom,
I’m one now with the sun, before your face,
In loving you

 

Bring wine! In all my life I’ve never known
A corner where
I could sit snugly, safely, and enjoy
Contentment too

 

And, if you’re sensible, don’t ply me with
Adivce; your words
Are wasted on me, and the reason is
I’m drunk; it’s true!

 

How can I not feel hopeless shame when I
Am near my love?
What service could I offer her?
What could I say or do?

 

Hafez is burned, but his bewitching love
Has yet to say,
“Hafez I wounded you, and here’s the balm
I send for you.”

 

From: Dick Davis.  Faces of Love: Hafez and the Poets of Shiraz.  Mage, 2012

 

غزل 315- به غیر از آن که بشد دین و دانش از دستم

Original:
بغیــر از آنکـــه بشد دین و دانـش از دستـــــم
بیــا بگــــو که ز عشقت چــــه طرف بربستـم
اگـــر چه خرمن عمـــرم غم تو داد بیـــــــــاد
بخـــاک پای عـــزیزت که عهـــــد نشکستـــم
چـــو ذره گـــر چه حقیـــرم ببین بدولت عشق
که در هــــوای رخت چون به مهــــر پیوستم
بیار باده که عمـــریست تا من از ســــــرا من
به کنج عــــافیت از بهـــــــر عیـش ننشستـــم
اگـــر زمـــردم هشیاری ای نصحیت گـــــــو
سخن بخاک میفکـــن چـــــرا کــــه من مستم
چگونه سر ز خجالت بر آورم بـــــــر دوست
که خـــدمتی به سزا بر نیامــــــــد از دستــــم
بسوخت حافظ و آن یـــــار دلســـــوز نـــگفت
کـــه مـــرهمی بفـــرستم که خاطرش خستـــم

 

Camaron

Translation:

Life is an illusion
that no one lives without
nor can it be solved
Because it’s like a star
no one has ever reached

When I met you I loved you
I gave you love and warmth
and finally I realized
that was a mistake
that I suffered with you

 

Original:

La vida es una ilusión
que nadie vive sin ella
y no tiene solución
porque es como una estrella
que jamás nadie alcanzó

Cuando yo a ti te conocí
te di cariño y calor
y al final me convencí
que fue una equivocación
la que yo contigo sufrí

 

Keats

Two stanzas from “An Ode to Melancholy”:

But when the melancholy fit shall fall
Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud,
That fosters the droop-headed flowers all,
And hides the green hill in an April shroud;
Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose,
Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave,
Or on the wealth of globed peonies;
Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows,
Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave,
And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.

She dwells with Beauty – Beauty that must die;
And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips
Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh,
Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips:
Ay, in the very temple of Delight
Veil’d Melancholy has her sovran shrine,
Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue
Can burst Joy’s grape against his palate fine;
His soul shall taste the sadness of her might,
And be among her cloudy trophies hung.

 

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *