I fear my tears may tear the veil

Posted on January 8, 2017 by sulaymanibnqiddees

Another favorite Hafez poem, it ends as it begins. It is performed beautifully here by Seyyed Khalil Alinejad.

shamsa1

Translation:

I fear my tears may tear the veil of my love for you

and this sealed secret became a legend the whole world through

They say a stone becomes a ruby in the station of patience

Yes, it does, but not without the blood of the liver

I’ll go down to the tavern, weeping, wailing for justice

perchance there I can find release for me from the hand of grief

I’ve cast the arrows of my prayers in every last direction

It may be that one of them, at least, will do its work

O soul, go tell our story to my sweetheart, lovingly

but not in such a way that the soft breeze gets wind of it

I’m in utter amazement at my rival’s arrogance

O Lord, let not a beggar assume so much importance

By your love’s alchemy, my face became bright gold

Yes, that’s true, thanks to your grace, the dust can become gold

Distinction great and beauty too are likewise needed here

So that one may accepted be by “people of the glance”

With all this stubbornness your cypress has in its tall head

How can my short arm ever find its way around your waist?

O Hafez, when the perfume of his tress is in your hand

Be silent, otherwise the breeze so soft will tear the veil.

shamsa2

Original:

ترسم که اشک در غم ما پرده‌در شود
وین راز سر به مهر به عالم سمر شود
گویند سنگ لعل شود در مقام صبر
آری شود ولیک به خون جگر شود
خواهم شدن به میکده گریان و دادخواه
کز دست غم خلاص من آن جا مگر شود
از هر کرانه تیر دعا کرده‌ام روان
باشد کز آن میانه یکی کارگر شود
ای جان حدیث ما بر دلدار بازگو
لیکن چنان مگو که صبا را خبر شود
از کیمیای مهر تو زر گشت روی من
آری به یمن لطف شما خاک زر شود
در تنگنای حیرتم از نخوت رقیب
یا رب مباد آن که گدا معتبر شود

از كيمياى ههر تو زر گشت روى من

آرى به يمن لطف شما خاك زر شود
بس نکته غیر حسن بباید که تا کسی
مقبول طبع مردم صاحب نظر شود
این سرکشی که کنگره کاخ وصل راست
سرها بر آستانه او خاک در شود
حافظ چو نافه سر زلفش به دست توست
دم درکش ار نه باد صبا را خبر شود

shamsacarpet

persiancarpetbeaut

Three more ghazals of Hafez

Posted on August 11, 2016 by sulaymanibnqiddees

Three more gems, back to back in his Divan:

Translation:

O you whose road-dust is the blood-price of China musk

and in whose crown’s shade the sun is tenderly nurtured

Strut out, for the narcissus’ pride is getting to be too much

I would die for the way your dark eyes look

Go ahead and drink my blood, for seeing a beauty such as you,

no angel will have the heart to write down your sin

You are the cause of the rest and sleep of the world

so your place is next to my heart and eye

I have an affair with every star every night,

out of desire for the light of your moon-like face

Friends who were together separated from each other,

but I am still in the happy refuge of your threshold

Hafez, do not lose hope in the grace of God

for in the end the fumes of your sigh will set fire to the harvest of grief.

Original:

ای خونبهای نافه چین خاک راه تو خورشید سایه پرور طرف کلاه تو
نرگس کرشمه می‌برد از حد برون خرام ای من فدای شیوه چشم سیاه تو
خونم بخور که هیچ ملک با چنان جمال از دل نیایدش که نویسد گناه تو
آرام و خواب خلق جهان را سبب تویی زان شد کنار دیده و دل تکیه گاه تو
با هر ستاره‌ای سر و کار است هر شبم از حسرت فروغ رخ همچو ماه تو
یاران همنشین همه از هم جدا شدند ماییم و آستانه دولت پناه تو
حافظ طمع مبر ز عنایت که عاقبت آتش زند به خرمن غم دود آه تو

Translation:

O you who stature decorates the robe of royalty

and whose great nature adorns the crown and the signet

Your moon-like face from beneath the royal crown

makes the sun of victory rise every moment

Although the sun of the sky is the light and sight of the world

the dust under you your feet illumines its sight

Wherever the homa of your sky-high canopy casts a shade,

becomes the land of the bird of happiness

Of the thousands of different laws of religion and philosophy

not a single point was lost from your heart

The water of life drips from the beak of eloquence of

your sweet-speaking parrot, your sugar-chewing pen

What Alexander sought but the world did not give him

was a sip of pure wine from your reviving cup

There is no need to express one’s wish in your presence

no one’s secret remains hidden in the light of your insight

Hafez boasts of being a servant before your presence

in hope of your life-giving and world-granting forgiveness

goldgeomillumin

Original:

ای قبای پادشاهی راست بر بالای تو زینت تاج و نگین از گوهر والای تو
آفتاب فتح را هر دم طلوعی می‌دهد از کلاه خسروی رخسار مه سیمای تو

گر چه خورشید فلک چشم و چراغ عالم است روشنایی بخش چشم اوست خاک پای تو
جلوه گاه طایر اقبال باشد هر کجا سایه‌اندازد همای چتر گردون سای تو
از رسوم شرع و حکمت با هزاران اختلاف نکته‌ای هرگز نشد فوت از دل دانای تو
آب حیوانش ز منقار بلاغت می‌چکد طوطی خوش لهجه یعنی کلک شکرخای تو
آن چه اسکندر طلب کرد و ندادش روزگار جرعه‌ای بود از زلال جام جان افزای تو
عرض حاجت در حریم حضرتت محتاج نیست راز کس مخفی نماند با فروغ رای تو

حافظ اندر حضرتت لاف غلامى مى جند

براميد عفو جان بخش جهان بخشاى تو

Translation:

The violet twists from your musk-spreading tress

the rosebud’s veil tears from your heart-opening laughter

O my sweet smelling rose, do not burn your nightingale

for in all sincerity, every night, all night, he prays for you

I who used to be annoyed even by the angels’ breathing

now I stand a world of vexation for you

love of your face is my nature, the dust of your door is my heaven

your love is my destiny, my comfort is your satisfaction

The robe of the beggar of love has treasure up its sleeve

he who becomes your beggar attains the kingdom quickly

The throne of my eye is the seat of your image

I pray that your seat never be without you, my king

The frenzy of your love’s wine will only go away

when my passionate head has turned into dust at your door

Your face is a pleasant field, especially in the spring of beauty

when sweet-spoken Hafez became your songbird.

(Translations modified from The Divan of Hafez by Reza Saberi pp.473-5)

Original:
تاب بنفشه می‌دهد طره مشک سای تو
پرده غنچه می‌درد خنده دلگشای تو
ای گل خوش نسیم من بلبل خویش را مسوز
کز سر صدق می‌کند شب همه شب دعای تو
من که ملول گشتمی از نفس فرشتگان
قال و مقال عالمی می‌کشم از برای تو
مهر رخت سرشت من خاك درت بهشت من

عشق تو سرنبشت من راحت من رضاى تو

دلق گداى عشق را گنج بود در آستين

زود به سلطنت رسد هر كه بود گداى تو

شاه‌نشین چشم من تکیه گه خیال توست
جای دعاست شاه من بی تو مباد جای تو
شور شراب عشق تو آن نفسم رود ز سر
کاین سر پرهوس شود خاک در سرای تو
خوش چمنیست عارضت خاصه که در بهار حسن
حافظ خوش کلام شد مرغ سخنسرای تو

maghribquran-manuscript

Keats and the Sufis

Posted on May 11, 2016 by sulaymanibnqiddees

these poems by John Keats pair nicely with the following poems by Ibn al-Farid and Hafez

John Keats

“Fill for me a brimming bowl”

What wondrous beauty! From this moment I efface from my mind all women.

Terrence, Eunuch, II.3.296

Fill for me a brimming bowl
And in it let me drown my soul:
But put therein some drug, designed
To Banish Women from my mind:
For I want not the stream inspiring
That fills the mind with–fond desiring,
But I want as deep a draught
As e’er from Lethe’s wave was quaff’d;
From my despairing heart to charm
The Image of the fairest form
That e’er my reveling eyes beheld,
That e’er my wandering fancy spell’d.
In vain! away I cannot chace
The melting softness of that face,
The beaminess of those bright eyes,
That breast–earth’s only Paradise.
My sight will never more be blest;
For all I see has lost its zest:
Nor with delight can I explore,
The Classic page, or Muse’s lore.
Had she but known how beat my heart,
And with one smile reliev’d its smart
I should have felt a sweet relief,
I should have felt “the joy of grief.”
Yet as the Tuscan mid the snow
Of Lapland dreams on sweet Arno,
Even so for ever shall she be
The Halo of my Memory.

Ibn al-Farid

Translation:

Pass round the remembrance the one I love, even in reproach

for tales about the beloved are my wine

Let my hearing witness the one I love, though she be far

through specters of reproach, not those of dreams!

Her remembrance delights me in every form

even when my reproachers mingle it with strife

It is as if my reproacher brought me news of union

when I had not even hoped for a response to a greeting

My soul is hers, for whose Iove I destroyed my soul

death came to me before the day of my death

For her sake I relish my disgrace and wallow

in rejection and shame when once my rank was high

After my piety, because of her, dissolution

casting off restraint and committing sins are sweet to me

I pray, singing when I recite remembrance of her

and I am enraptured in the mihrab, for she is my Imam

On hajj, when I don the pilgrim’s robes I call her name

and when I break my fast, it is from her that I refrain

My tear ducts flow due to my state and gush

because of what has passed, and my laments convey my inner fire

At night my heart is driven mad with longing,

at dawn my eyes are pouring in their grief

my heart and eyes are stricken, one afflicted by the meaning

of her beauty, the other tempted by her tender poise

My sleep is lost, my morning too—may you be spared!—

ever present is my wakefulness and still my longing grows

My bond and my covenant have never been undone or changed

my love remains my love and passion is my passion

So wasted is my body that its secrets are made plain

and meaning is disclosed therein through my withered bones

Felled by love’s pain, with wounded heart

and wounded eyelids ever bleeding,

Yet true to love, I have become ethereal like air

with breaths of dawn breeze my only company

Sound I am, yet sick; seek me then from the morning breeze

for my withering has decreed that it is my home

So wasted I am that I have vanished from wasting itself

and from cure to my sickness and coolness for my burning thirst

Love has left nothing of me save grief

sorrow, torment and grave illness

No one I know knows my place save love

nor the concealment of my secrets nor my bond’s custody

And of passion, patience and solace

it has left nothing for me but the names

Whoever is free of my love, may he be saved with his soul

in one piece; O soul of mine, go in peace

“Forget her!” my blamer said to me, fanatically

blaming me. I said, “forget your blaming of me!”

If I sought consolation, who would be there to be my guide

when in love, every leader follows my lead?

In my every limb is every yearning for her

and every longing tugs at my reins

As she bends, I imagine every hip she moves

to be a branch in a sand dune topped by the full moon

Mine is every limb filled with every inner core

wherein, when she glances, is embedded every arrow

And if she dissolved my body she would find every atom

every heart inhabited by every human love

In union with her, a year to me is but an instant,

an hour’s separation like a year.

When we met at nightfall, as the twin straight paths

between her dwelling and my tents brought us together,

We moved away a little from the tribe,

avoiding spies and slanderers with their deceitful talk

I spread my cheek upon the ground for her to walk upon

and she said, “Good news, now you may kiss my veil.”

But this my soul did not permit me, jealously

shielding her from me, for higher is my purpose

We passed the night in hope as my wish decreed

and I saw the world my kingdom and time itself my slave.

Translation modified from Stefan Sperl’s in Stefan Sperl, C. Shackle, Qasida Poetry in Islamic Asia and Africa, Brill 1996, p. 106-111

John Keats

“The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!”

The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!

Sweet voice, sweet lips, soft hand, and softer breast,

Warm breath, light whisper, tender semi-tone,

Bright eyes, accomplish’d shape, and lang’rous waist!

Faded the flower and all its budded charms,

Faded the sight of beauty from my eyes,

Faded the shape of beauty from my arms,

Faded the voice, warmth, whiteness, paradise –

Vanish’d unseasonably at shut of eve,

When the dusk holiday – or holinight

Of fragrant-curtain’d love begins to weave

The woof of darkness thick, for hid delight,

But, as I’ve read love’s missal through to-day,

He’ll let me sleep, seeing I fast and pray.

Hafez

Translation:

The breath of the zephyr will become musk-diffusing

and the old world will grow young again

The Judas-tree will give a cornelian cup to the lily,

and the eye of the narcissus will me anxious for the anemone.

The nightingale after all that pain of separation,

will roaringly dash all the way to the pavilion of the rose

If I went from mosque to tavern, do not carp

the preaching was too long, and time was passing

O heart if you postpone today’s pleasure until tomorrow,

who will guarantee a lasting life for you?

In the month of Sha’ban do not neglect the cup of wine

this sun will be out of sight until the ‘Eid of Ramadan

The rose is precious, appreciate its company

It came into the garden this way, and will go out through that

O minstrel, this is the intimates’ assembly, sing a song

How long should you say: “Passed like this, and like that will pass?”

Hafez came into the realm of existence for your sake

take a step for his farewell, for he will soon pass.

translation from Reza Saberi, The Divan of Hafez, p. 196

Original:

نفس باد صبا مشک فشان خواهد شد
عالم پیر دگرباره جوان خواهد شد
ارغوان جام عقیقی به سمن خواهد داد
چشم نرگس به شقایق نگران خواهد شد
این تطاول که کشید از غم هجران بلبل
تا سراپرده گل نعره زنان خواهد شد
گر ز مسجد به خرابات شدم خرده مگیر
مجلس وعظ دراز است و زمان خواهد شد
ای دل ار عشرت امروز به فردا فکنی
مایه نقد بقا را که ضمان خواهد شد
ماه شعبان منه از دست قدح کاین خورشید
از نظر تا شب عید رمضان خواهد شد
گل عزیز است غنیمت شمریدش صحبت
که به باغ آمد از این راه و از آن خواهد شد
مطربا مجلس انس است غزل خوان و سرود
چند گویی که چنین رفت و چنان خواهد شد
حافظ از بهر تو آمد سوی اقلیم وجود
قدمی نه به وداعش که روان خواهد شد

Translation:

I don’t see any companionship. What happened to the companions?

when did friendships end? What happened to the friends?

the water of life darkened. Where is the auspicious Khezr?

The rose lost colour. What happened to the spring wind?

None says that a friend has the right of friendship.

what happened to the grateful ones and the companions?

This was the city of friends and the site of kind people

when did kindness end? What happened to the city of friends?

Years past and no ruby came out of the mine of generosity

what happened to the work of rain, the sun, and the wind?

The polo-ball of success and liberality is cast into the field.

None enters the arena. What happened to the horsemen?

A hundred thousand roses blossomed, but no bird sang.

what happened to the nightingales and the starlings?

Venus plays no more happy tunes. Did its lute burn?

no one yearns for drunkenness. What happened to the drinkers?

Silence, Hafez! Divine mysteries are not known to anyone.

whom do you ask, “what happened to the cycle of days?”

translation modified from Reza Saberi’s in The Divan of Hafez p. 203

Original:

یاری اندر کس نمی‌بینیم یاران را چه شد

دوستی کی آخر آمد دوستداران را چه شد

آب حیوان تیره گون شد خضر فرخ پی کجاست

خون چکید از شاخ گل باد بهاران را چه شد

کس نمی‌گوید که یاری داشت حق دوستی

حق شناسان را چه حال افتاد یاران را چه شد

لعلی از کان مروت برنیامد سال‌هاست

تابش خورشید و سعی باد و باران را چه شد

شهر یاران بود و خاک مهربانان این دیار

مهربانی کی سر آمد شهریاران را چه شد

گوی توفیق و کرامت در میان افکنده‌اند

کس به میدان در نمی‌آید سواران را چه شد

صد هزاران گل شکفت و بانگ مرغی برنخاست

عندلیبان را چه پیش آمد هزاران را چه شد

زهره سازی خوش نمی‌سازد مگر عودش بسوخت

کس ندارد ذوق مستی میگساران را چه شد

حافظ اسرار الهی کس نمی‌داند خموش

از که می‌پرسی که دور روزگاران را چه شد

Hafez and Surah Qadr

Posted on April 26, 2016 by sulaymanibnqiddees

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

Translation:

This is the night of union and the tale of separation is at an end

Therein is peace 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.

illumincolors bluequran1

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 میبینم 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 إِنَّا أَنْزَلْنَاهُ فِي لَيْلَةِ الْقَدْرِ وَمَا أَدْرَاكَ مَا لَيْلَةُ الْقَدْرِ لَيْلَةُ الْقَدْرِ خَيْرٌ مِنْ أَلْفِ شَهْرٍ تَنَزَّلُ الْمَلَائِكَةُ وَالرُّوحُ فِيهَا بِإِذْنِ رَبِّهِمْ مِنْ كُلِّ أَمْرٍ سَلَامٌ هِيَ حَتَّى مَطْلَعِ الْفَجْرِ .^[1

bluequran

Hafez taught me: Three Great Ghazals

Posted on April 7, 2016 by sulaymanibnqiddees

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

Ghazal 344:

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

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

Ghazal #1 of Hafez’s Divan

Posted on March 30, 2016 by sulaymanibnqiddees

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.

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

Posted on March 30, 2016 by sulaymanibnqiddees

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)

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

The Lovers’ Anthem

Posted on March 11, 2016 by sulaymanibnqiddees

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 mistake

the mistake is, my dear, not understanding 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

Posted on March 11, 2016 by sulaymanibnqiddees

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?

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

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.

Translation:

I fear my tears may tear the veil of my love for you

and this sealed secret became a legend the whole world through

They say a stone becomes a ruby in the station of patience

Yes, it does, but not without the blood of the liver

I’ll go down to the tavern, weeping, wailing for justice

perchance there I can find release for me from the hand of grief

I’ve cast the arrows of my prayers in every last direction

It may be that one of them, at least, will do its work

O soul, go tell our story to my sweetheart, lovingly

but not in such a way that the soft breeze gets wind of it

I’m in utter amazement at my rival’s arrogance

O Lord, let not a beggar assume so much importance

By your love’s alchemy, my face became bright gold

Yes, that’s true, thanks to your grace, the dust can become gold

Distinction great and beauty too are likewise needed here

So that one may accepted be by “people of the glance”

With all this stubbornness your cypress has in its tall head

How can my short arm ever find its way around your waist?

O Hafez, when the perfume of his tress is in your hand

Be silent, otherwise the breeze so soft will tear the veil.

از كيمياى ههر تو زر گشت روى من

O you whose road-dust is the blood-price of China musk

and in whose crown’s shade the sun is tenderly nurtured

Strut out, for the narcissus’ pride is getting to be too much

I would die for the way your dark eyes look

Go ahead and drink my blood, for seeing a beauty such as you,

no angel will have the heart to write down your sin

You are the cause of the rest and sleep of the world

so your place is next to my heart and eye

I have an affair with every star every night,

out of desire for the light of your moon-like face

Friends who were together separated from each other,

but I am still in the happy refuge of your threshold

Hafez, do not lose hope in the grace of God

for in the end the fumes of your sigh will set fire to the harvest of grief.

O you who stature decorates the robe of royalty

and whose great nature adorns the crown and the signet

Your moon-like face from beneath the royal crown

makes the sun of victory rise every moment

Although the sun of the sky is the light and sight of the world

the dust under you your feet illumines its sight

Wherever the homa of your sky-high canopy casts a shade,

becomes the land of the bird of happiness

Of the thousands of different laws of religion and philosophy

not a single point was lost from your heart

The water of life drips from the beak of eloquence of

your sweet-speaking parrot, your sugar-chewing pen

What Alexander sought but the world did not give him

was a sip of pure wine from your reviving cup

There is no need to express one’s wish in your presence

no one’s secret remains hidden in the light of your insight

Hafez boasts of being a servant before your presence

in hope of your life-giving and world-granting forgiveness

ای قبای پادشاهی راست بر بالای تو زینت تاج و نگین از گوهر والای تو آفتاب فتح را هر دم طلوعی می‌دهد از کلاه خسروی رخسار مه سیمای تو

حافظ اندر حضرتت لاف غلامى مى جند

براميد عفو جان بخش جهان بخشاى تو

The violet twists from your musk-spreading tress

the rosebud’s veil tears from your heart-opening laughter

O my sweet smelling rose, do not burn your nightingale

for in all sincerity, every night, all night, he prays for you

I who used to be annoyed even by the angels’ breathing

now I stand a world of vexation for you

love of your face is my nature, the dust of your door is my heaven

your love is my destiny, my comfort is your satisfaction

The robe of the beggar of love has treasure up its sleeve

he who becomes your beggar attains the kingdom quickly

The throne of my eye is the seat of your image

I pray that your seat never be without you, my king

The frenzy of your love’s wine will only go away

when my passionate head has turned into dust at your door

Your face is a pleasant field, especially in the spring of beauty

when sweet-spoken Hafez became your songbird.

عشق تو سرنبشت من راحت من رضاى تو

دلق گداى عشق را گنج بود در آستين

زود به سلطنت رسد هر كه بود گداى تو

John Keats

“Fill for me a brimming bowl”

What wondrous beauty! From this moment I efface from my mind all women.

Terrence, Eunuch, II.3.296

ای قبای پادشاهی راست بر بالای تو زینت تاج و نگین از گوهر والای تو
آفتاب فتح را هر دم طلوعی می‌دهد از کلاه خسروی رخسار مه سیمای تو