Among the people are some who take peers apart from God, loving them as if loving God. And those who believe are more intense in love for God. If only those who were unjust could see, they would see the punishment/sweetness: that all power is God’s and God is intense in punishment/sweetness.
Tafsir Maybudi
They say that a man met a woman recognizer, and her beauty exercised its influence over his heart. He said, “’My all is busy with your all.’ O woman! I have lost myself in love for you.”
She said, “Why don’t you look at my sister, who is more beautiful and lovely than I?”
He said, “Where is your sister so that I may see her?”
She said, “Go, idler! Passion is not your work. If your claim to love me were true, you would not care about anyone else.”…
Shiblī said, “I learned Sufism from a dog that was sleeping at the door of a house. The owner came out and was driving the dog away, but the dog kept on coming back. I said to myself, ‘How base this dog is! He drives him away, and he keeps on coming back.’ The Exalted Lord brought that dog to speech and it said, ‘O Shaykh! Where should I go? He is my owner.’”
I will not leave the Friend at a hundred iniquities and cruelties.
Even if He increases them, I will not be troubled,
It is I who chose Him over everyone else;
if I complain about Him, I will have no excuse.
Tafsir Kashani
But the believers love God more ardently, than any other, because they only love God. Their love for Him is not confounded with love of others and is not subject to change. They love things through [their] love of God and for God and in the measure that they find in these [things] a divine aspect…
or [it means that] they love [God] more than they love their deities because they love things in themselves for themselves and so inevitably their love changes [for these things] when they themselves change the accidents of their souls upon fear of perdition and the harm that the soul brings upon them. Believers love God through their spirits and their hearts, nay, through God and for God. Their love [for Him] does not change because it is selfless. They expend their spirits and their souls for the sake of His countenance and His approval, abandoning all of their desires for His desire, loving His acts even when they conflict with their caprices, as one of them said: “I desire to connect with Him while He desires to abandon me, so I abandon what I desire for what He desires.”
Tafsir Anon.
Nothing but God is loved, nothing but God is worshipped— Your Lord has decreed that you worship none but Him (17:23)— indeed nothing but God is. However, some limit their love of God to a particular form or forms of His, an idol of sorts.
Those who love God in a limited form, in idols or “peers,” love a limited form, and thus their love is limited. Those who love God, Who is beyond all limitation (and is even beyond the limitation of being beyond limitation) love Him in each and every form, without limitation. Thus their love is unlimited, and more intense. He loves them and they love Him (5:54).They love Him with His love. Those who love the “idols” of a particular form or forms only love “as if with the Love of God” (كحبّ الله), but those who believe, who love of God is not limited by these forms, love God with His own unlimited love—God loves Himself through them.
Those who wrong themselves by limiting their love to a particular form or forms, if they could only see, would know the intense sweetness of love unlimited, and the severe punishment of limited love, especially when compared to sweetness of unlimited love. The pain of regret and envy is severe punishment.
Ibn ‘Arabi
Faṣṣ Harūn:
Have you seen him who has taken desire for his God? (45:23)
The greatest and most exalted locus of self-disclosure wherein He is worshipped is that of desire. Remember that He has said, Have you seen him who has taken his desire for his God? It is the greatest object of worship since nothing is worshipped except through it, and it is only worshipped by itself. Concerning this I say:
The truth of desire is that desire is the cause of desire
If not for desire in the heart, desire would not be worshipped
و حق الهوى إن الهوى سبب الهوى لو لا الهوى في القلب ما عُبِدَ الهوى
Do you not see how perfect God’s knowledge of things is, how He perfects one who worships is desire and takes it has his divinity?… He sees this worshipper worshipping only his his desire, complying with its command to worship the individual whom he worships. Even his worship of God comes from his desire. If one did not have desire for the Divine—which is a will based on love—one would not worship God, nor would one prefer Him to another. Likewise, anyone who worships some form of the world and makes it a divinity only does so because of desire. The worshipper is forever under the influence of his desire. Now, he sees the objects of worship diversified amongst the worshippers, and each one who worships something, denies one who worships something else. One who has the least bit of awareness will be bewildered at the unanimity of desire, nay by the oneness of desire, for it is the same essence in every worshipper. God led him astray, that is, bewildered him, out of knowledge that every worshipper only worships his own desire, and only seeks to worship his desire whether it coincides with the prescribed command or not.
The perfect Knower is he who sees every object of worship as a locus of self-disclosure of the Real wherein to worship Him.
This is why a human being does not become totally annihilated and enraptured by love except in love for His Lord or for someone who is the locus of disclosure for his Lord [that is, another human being, created in God’s image].
The entities of the cosmos are all lovers because of Him, whatever the beloved may be, since all created things are the pedestals for the Real’s self-disclosure. Their love is fixed, they are loving, and He is the Loving. The whole situation is concealed between the Real and creation through creation and the Real. That is why God brought the name Forgiving along with the name Loving [in the verse He is the Forgiving, the Loving, Lord of the Throne, the Glorious (85:14-15)]. After all, Forgiving means literally ‘curtaining’. Thus it is said that [the famous Arab lover] Qays loved Layla, since Layla derives from the locus of disclosure. In the same way, Bishr loved Hind, Kuthayr loved ‘Azza, Ibn al-Durayj loved Lubna, Tawba loved al-Akhyaliyya, and Jamil loved Buthayna. But all these women were pedestals through which the Real disclosed Himself to them.
The beloved is a pedestal even if the lover is ignorant of the names of what he loves. A man can see a woman and love her, without knowing who she is, what her name is, who her relatives are, and where she lives. Love, by its very essence, requires that he seek out her name and her home so that he may attend to her and know her in the state of her absence through the name and the relationship. Thus he will ask about her if he lacks the witnessing of her.
So also is our love for God. We love Him in His loci of self-disclosure and within the specific name, which is Layla, Lubna, or whatever, but we do not recognize that the object is identical with the Real. So here we love the name but we do not recognize that it is identical with the Real. Thus we love the name and do not recognize the entity.
In the case of the created thing, you know the entity and you love. It may be that the name is not known. However, love refuses anything but making the beloved known. Among us are those who know God in this world, and among us are those who do not know Him until they die while loving some specific thing. Then they will come to understand, when the covering is lifted, that they had loved only God, but they had been veiled by the name of the created thing.
being pals with a dog from the streets is more pleasant
When the heart breaks with melancholy over some beauty
that breaking is more pleasant than any salve
Public love play with idols is more pleasant
than all this devout hypocrisy
Once won, there’s no pleasure in love
Separation, for those who play this game, is more pleasant.
Put your base love out of your mind, Khusrau
Love for the sacred secret is more pleasant
Original:
مفلسي از پادشايي خوشتر است
مفسدي از پارسايي خوشتر است
پادشاهي راست درد سر، ولي
چون نگه کردم گدايي خوشتر است
پادشاهان چون به خود ندهند راه
با فقيران بي نوايي خوشتر است
آدمي چون کبر در سر مي کند
با سنگ کو، آشنايي خوشتر است
دل که از سوداي خوبان بشکند
آن شکست از موميايي خوشتر است
آشکارا عشقبازي بيا بتان
از بسي زهد ريايي خوشتر است
نيست لذت عشق را بعد از وصال
عشقبازان را جدايي خوشتر است
عشق دوتان، خسروا، از سر بنه
عشق با سر خدايي خوشتر است
Translation:
Since we’ve pulled our skirts back form the spread of worldly wares
we’ve rolled up our clothes and moved into the beggar’s alley
Sāqī pour out the wine from the flask
for we have drunk too many tears from sky-blue bottles
Since the cup of black and white dice that roll across the earth’s green felt
is loaded full of trickery, we have drunk dark red wine
Now it’s poverty and its myriad meanings like threads
that we’ve woven into a blanket and pulled down over our head
We’ve pulled back the skirts of ambition from all the world yields
since it could never fill the pockets of greed.
Smash the assayer’s touchstone against a rock
Gold is just yellow clay when we have wisdom’s scales
Khusrau, we are not children to seek out shiny yellow and reds
Like adults we’ve pulled back our hearts from gold and pearls
Original:
تا دامن از بساط جهان در کشیده ایم
رخت خرد به کوی قلندر کشیده ایم
ای ساقی، از قرابه فرو ریز می که ما
خونابه ها ز شیشه اخضر کشیده ایم
در حقه سفید و سیه بر بساط خاک
چون پر دغاست، باده احمر کشیده ایم
فقر است و صد هزار معانی درو چو موی
آن را گلیم کرده و در سر کشیده ایم
چون جیب حرص پر نشد از حاصل جهان
دامان همت از سر آن در کشیده ایم
بر سنگ زن عیار زر، ایرا گلی ست زرد
چون در ترازوی خردش بر کشیده ایم
خسرو نه کودکیم که جوییم سرخ و زرد
چون بالغان دل از زر و گوهر کشیده ایم
Translation:
The wise ought not to set their hearts
on the seductiveness the world displays
Why fall in love with the phantasms of this world
The mirror shows the face to be a borrowed thing
Don’t think the knots on your brow are firm and strong
Fate takes note of them only to untie them
How vainly you say, “I will stand firm.”
If life itself won’t stand firm, how will you?
While alive, one’s meaning and form remain
Though through form, one joins meaning
My heart is in ruins and people have hearts of stone
One shouldn’t rebuild this edifice with such bricks
Humankind is chaff, how can it cling to gold?
Straw is naturally drawn to amber.
You’ll get no provisions from worthless companions
The camel is mated, but no foal is born
When you speak bitterly, the answer will be the same
If you curse an enemy, he won’t reply sweetly
Seeking insight form the immature is
like a fool rubbing his head against unfired brick
If you ask me truly about the story of this world—
it’s an easy lie that Khusrau sings.
Original:
بدان دلفریبی که گیتی نماید
خردمند را دل نهادن نشاید
چه بندی دل اندر خیالات عالم؟
که آیینه رو عاریت می نماید
گره های غمزه مبین سخت و محکم
که چرخش ندید آن، مگر می گشاید
چه بیهوده گویی که پاینده مانم
تو مانی، اگر زندگانی نپاید؟
کسی زنده ماند به معنی و صورت
که از راه صورت به معنی گراید
دل خلق سنگین و دل در خرابی
ازان سنگها این عمارت نشاید
خس است آدمی، چون گرفتار زر شد
چون آن کاه کش کهربا می رباید
ز اصحاب ناجنس زادی نیابی
که استر شود جفت و کره نزاید
چو تو تلخ گویی، همان است پاسخ
عدوگاه دشنام شکر نخاید
بدان ماند از خام جستن بصیرت
که بر خشت خام ابلهی سر نساید
حدیث جهان گر ز من راست پرسی
دروغی ست آسان که خسرو سراید
Translation:
My life is over and I did not turn to the Lord
I did not seek out those moments of rapture, and now the chance has slipped
How can my heart wash away its filthy corruption?
Unlike my tears, my ablutions failed to flood me with regret
My tears did not wash away my black disgrace
My face did not shine bright in the ranks of true men
What do I know of the path of those lion-hearted nocturnal wanderers
When I haven’t spent a night or two even roaming the alleys with dogs?
Never a ball nestled in the crook of love’s polo stick,
my head could not be struck by the ecstasy of my Sultan’s presence
My rheumy nose could not pick up the smell of musk
too congested to catch the perfume of creation.
They advise me to give up my bad habits, but how can I do so now
when I haven’t made a habit of it from the first?
I threw away my whole life on lies:
I never bowed down sincerely before the Lord.
Poetry became my plague, alas that Khusrau never said, “Silence”
and I never stopped talking.
Original:
برفت عمر و به سوي خداي روي نکردم
بشد غنيمت و اوقات جستجوي نکردم
ز لوث فسق دل من چگونه دست بشويد؟
به غسل جاي ندامت چو ديده چوي نکردم
سياه رويي خود را به آب ديده نشستم
به صف مردان خود را سفيد روي نکردم
طريق شيردلي هاي شبروان چه شناسم
که صحبتي دو سه شب باسگان کوي نکردم؟
کجا به حضرت سلطان قبول حال بيايد
سري که در خم چوگان عشق گوي نکردم
دماغ کرد چنينم که طيب خلق ندانم
زکام داشت بر آنم که مشک بوي نکردم
به ترک خوي بدم مي دهند پند، وليکن
کنون چگونه کنم، کز نخست خوي نکردم؟
تمام عمر برانداختم به کذب که هرگز
به صدق پيش خدا قامت دو توي نکردم
وبال من همه شعر آمد و دريغ که خسرو
نگفت «خاموش » و من ترک گفتگوي نکردم
Translations from In the Bazaar of Love
by Paul Losensky and Sunil Sharma
Compare with Hafez’s ghazal:
Translation:
Last night a wise, keen-minded one whispered to me,
“The wine-seller’s secret should not be hidden from you.”
He said, “Take it easy, for by its nature,
the world is hard on those who try hard.”
And then he gave me a cup and in its light, across the heavens
Venus began to dance, and played her lute, and cried, “Drink!”
While your heart bleeds, let your lips smile like the cup.
Don’t, if you are stuck, break into a roar like the harp
Until you are an initiate you will not hear a secret in this music.
The outsider’s ear is no place for the angel’s message.
Listen to my advice, O son, and don’t worry about the world.
I told a pearl-like ḥadīth if you can hear it
In love’s sanctuary there is no murmur of debate
because all your limbs must be eye and ear.
In the shop of those who understand subtlety,
hawking oneself is not allowed. Speak knowingly, o wise one, or be quiet
O Sāqī, give us wine, because Aṣaf of auspicious birth,
forgiver of sins and overlooker of faults, understands what Hafez really means
Translation from The Green Sea of Heaven
by Elizabeth Gray
Original:
دوش با من گفت پنهان کاردانی تیزهوش
وز شما پنهان نشاید کرد سر می فروش
گفت آسان گیر بر خود کارها کز روی طبع
سخت می‌گردد جهان بر مردمان سخت‌کوش
وان گهم درداد جامی کز فروغش بر فلک
زهره در رقص آمد و بربط زنان می‌گفت نوش
با دل خونین لب خندان بیاور همچو جام
نی گرت زخمی رسد آیی چو چنگ اندر خروش
تا نگردی آشنا زین پرده رمزی نشنوی
گوش نامحرم نباشد جای پیغام سروش
گوش کن پند ای پسر وز بهر دنیا غم مخور
گفتمت چون در حدیثی گر توانی داشت هوش
در حریم عشق نتوان زد دم از گفت و شنید
زان که آنجا جمله اعضا چشم باید بود و گوش
بر بساط نکته دانان خودفروشی شرط نیست
یا سخن دانسته گو ای مرد عاقل یا خموش
ساقیا می ده که رندی‌های حافظ فهم کرد
آصف صاحب قران جرم بخش عیب پوش
I’ve quoted from these before, but here are two of my favorite ghazals in their entirety:
(If the videos on the other pages on this site don’t appear for you, try emptying your cache and reloading the page)
Translation:
The outward ascetic has no knowledge of our state
Whatever he says about us, there’s no room for disagreement
Whatever happens to the traveler of the Path is for his own good
No one is lost on a straight path
Depending on how the game goes, we may move a pawn
The king has no chance on the gangster’s chessboard
What is this lofty ceiling, plain or many-patterned?
No wise person in the world can solve this mystery
O Lord what manner of proud grandeur and power is this?
There are so many hidden wounds, and no space for a sigh…
It seems our bookkeeper doesn’t know the account
For nothing in the ledger is for the sake of God’s reward
Original:
زاهد ظاهرپرست از حال ما آگاه نیست
در حق ما هر چه گوید جای هیچ اکراه نیست
در طریقت هر چه پیش سالک آید خیر اوست
در صراط مستقیم ای دل کسی گمراه نیست
تا چه بازی رخ نماید بیدقی خواهیم راند
عرصه شطرنج رندان را مجال شاه نیست
چیست این سقف بلند ساده بسیارنقش
زین معما هیچ دانا در جهان آگاه نیست
این چه استغناست یا رب وین چه قادر حکمت است
کاین همه زخم نهان هست و مجال آه نیست
صاحب دیوان ما گویی نمی‌داند حساب
کاندر این طغرا نشان حسبه لله نیست
هر که خواهد گو بیا و هر چه خواهد گو بگو
کبر و ناز و حاجب و دربان بدین درگاه نیست
بر در میخانه رفتن کار یک رنگان بود
خودفروشان را به کوی می فروشان راه نیست
هر چه هست از قامت ناساز بی اندام ماست
ور نه تشریف تو بر بالای کس کوتاه نیست
بنده پیر خراباتم که لطفش دایم است
ور نه لطف شیخ و زاهد گاه هست و گاه نیست
حافظ ار بر صدر ننشیند ز عالی مشربیست
عاشق دردی کش اندربند مال و جاه نیست
Translation:
No one has seen your face, and yet a thousand rivals seek you
Although you’re still a bud, a hundred gazelles entreat you
Although I’m far from you, may no one ever be far from you
I still hope that I can be united with you soon
If I come to your home, it is not so strange
There are thousands of strangers like me in this land
In love there is no difference between the Sufi lodge and the tavern
Everywhere that is is illumined by the light of the beloved’s face
Wherever they are performing the rites of the abbey
There is rule of the monastery the name of the cross
Whoever became a lover without the friend glancing at him?
O Master, there is no pain, otherwise there are many physicians
Hafez’s cry was not in vain after all
It is a strange story and a wondrous tale
Original:
روی تو کس ندید و هزارت رقیب هست
در غنچه‌ای هنوز و صدت عندلیب هست
گر آمدم به کوی تو چندان غریب نیست
چون من در آن دیار هزاران غریب هست
در عشق خانقاه و خرابات فرق نیست
هر جا که هست پرتو روی حبیب هست
آن جا که کار صومعه را جلوه می‌دهند
ناقوس دیر راهب و نام صلیب هست
عاشق که شد که یار به حالش نظر نکرد
ای خواجه درد نیست وگرنه طبیب هست
فریاد حافظ این همه آخر به هرزه نیست
هم قصه‌ای غریب و حدیثی عجیب هست
Compare with Amir Khusro’s Ghazal:
I am the slave of that face which no one is allowed to see
mad for tresses that no one can pass by, nor is allowed to touch
A thirsty flame licks my breast, and displays in the distance
a drink, which no one’s allowed to taste.
Whether or not I look at him, I don’t have long to live,
My friend, is this any time to not allow looking?
Hundreds of hearts and eyes await your arrows
How is it that it’s only unlucky me they’re not allowed to hit?
Lord what agony this captive bird must feel!
when they won’t accept its sacrifice, nor its flight allow
Let me hear a single word and I’ll give up my soul
Isn’t it forbidden for me to die without ever being allowed to hear?
My breast was torn to a hundred shreds, my heart is cut to a hundred pieces
Why won’t these ignorant fools allow me to take off these tattered clothes?
Khusrau was pierced hundred of times by cruel thorns of separation
Will he ever be allowed to pluck a rose from your garden?
Original:
من بنده آن روي که ديدن نگذارند
ديوانه زلفي که کشيدن نگذارند
از تشنگيم شعله زنان سينه و از دور
شربت بنمايد و چشيدن نگذارند
چون زيستني نيستم، ار بينم و ار ني
اي دوست، چه وقت است که ديدن نگذارند؟
صد ديده و دل منتظر تير تو، فرياد
کش با من بيچاره رسيدن نگذارند
يارب، چه عذابي ست برين مرغ گرفتار؟
بسمل نپسندند و پريدن نگذارند
گفتم سخني بشنوم و جان دهم اکنون
محروم بميرم، چو شنيدن نگذارند؟
صد چاک شده سينه و صد پاره شده دل
اين بي خبران جامه دريدن نگذارند
امروز صبا از جگرم بوي گرفته ست
زنهار کزان سوش وزيدن نگذارند
صد خار جفا خورد ز هجران تو خسرو
آه، ار گلي از روي تو چيدن نگذارند
Chhap tilak sab cheeni ray mosay naina milaikay
Chhap tilak sab cheeni ray mosay naina milaikay
Prem bhatee ka madhva pilaikay
Matvali kar leeni ray mosay naina milaikay
Gori gori bayyan, hari hari churiyan
Bayyan pakar dhar leeni ray mosay naina milaikay
Bal bal jaaon mein toray rang rajwa
Apni see kar leeni ray mosay naina milaikay
Khusrau Nijaam kay bal bal jayyiye
Mohay Suhaagan keeni ray mosay naina milaikay
Chhap tilak sab cheeni ray mosay naina milaikay
Original:
With my beautiful face all adorned, when I went to the beloved,
I saw his face, and forgot all about my own beauty.
Transliteration:
Apni chhab banaikay, jo main pi kay paas gayi
Chhab dekhi jab piyu ki so apni bhool gayi.
Hafez
Translation:
Show me your face and make me forget I exist
Let the wind take the harvest of burned ones
Since I let the storm of calamity take my heart and sight
Let the flood of grief take my house from its foundation
Who smells his tress which is like raw ambergris
O naive heart, take this question out of your mind
Tell the chest: burn hotter than the flames of the fire-temple of Fars
Tell the eye: overflow, put the Tigris of Baghdad to shame
On this path, no place can be reached without effort
If you seek reward, then obey the master
Long live the Magian Pir, the rest is trivial
Let the others go away and forget my name
Promise to visit me for a moment on the day of my death
and then carry me to the grave, unbound and free
Last night he said he would kill me with his long eyelashes
O Lord, take the thought of cruelty from his mind
Hafez, consider the beloved’s sensitive nature
Leave his doorstep, and take this weeping and wailing with you
Original:
روی بنمای و وجود خودم از یاد ببر
خرمن سوختگان را همه گو باد ببر
ما چو دادیم دل و دیده به طوفان بلا
گو بیا سیل غم و خانه ز بنیاد ببر
زلف چون عنبر خامش که ببوید هیهات
ای دل خام طمع این سخن از یاد ببر
سینه گو شعله آتشکده فارس بکش
دیده گو آب رخ دجله بغداد ببر
دولت پیر مغان باد که باقی سهل است
دیگری گو برو و نام من از یاد ببر
سعی نابرده در این راه به جایی نرسی
مزد اگر می‌طلبی طاعت استاد ببر
روز مرگم نفسی وعده دیدار بده
وان گهم تا به لحد فارغ و آزاد ببر
دوش می‌گفت به مژگان درازت بکشم
یا رب از خاطرش اندیشه بیداد ببر
حافظ اندیشه کن از نازکی خاطر یار
برو از درگهش این ناله و فریاد ببر
The minstrel played a melody from the pain of love
that covered the philosopher’s eyelashes in blood
-Hafez
Translation:
For years I pawned my book for wine,
the rowdiness of the tavern was from my teaching and praying
See the goodness of the Magian Pīr:
Whatever we drunks did was beautiful in his kind eye
Wash the whole book of our knowledge in wine
for I saw that heaven despises the wise
O heart, if you know beauty, then seek it in idols
as one who knows the science of sight has said
My heart moved around in every direction, like a compass
while part of it stood in that circle, amazed
The minstrel played a melody from the pain of love
that covered the philosopher’s eyelashes with blood
I blossomed with joy, for like a rose on the lips of a stream
the shadow of that cypress’s tall stature fell on my head
My saffron Pīr did not allow any bad speech about the blue-clad
otherwise, there would be many tales…
Hafez’s gold-plated, counterfeit heart could not be spent before him
for this dealer could see all hidden defects
Original:
سال‌ها دفتر ما در گرو صهبا بود
رونق میکده از درس و دعای ما بود
نیکی پیر مغان بین که چو ما بدمستان
هر چه کردیم به چشم کرمش زیبا بود
دفتر دانش ما جمله بشویید به می
که فلک دیدم و در قصد دل دانا بود
از بتان آن طلب ار حسن شناسی ای دل
کاین کسی گفت که در علم نظر بینا بود
دل چو پرگار به هر سو دورانی می‌کرد
و اندر آن دایره سرگشته پابرجا بود مطرب از درد محبت عملی می‌پرداخت که حکیمان جهان را مژه خون پالا بود
می‌شکفتم ز طرب زان که چو گل بر لب جوی
بر سرم سایه آن سرو سهی بالا بود
پیر گلرنگ من اندر حق ازرق پوشان
رخصت خبث نداد ار نه حکایت‌ها بود
قلب اندوده حافظ بر او خرج نشد
کاین معامل به همه عیب نهان بینا بود
Translation:
Ay, ay, ay, ay…
I am not
I am not from this land
nor do I know anyone.
He who does,
whoever has done good for my child
May God bless you
Lyrics:
Ay,ay,ay,ay…
No soy,
no soy de esta tierra,
ni conozco a nadie.
El que lo haga.
Quien lo hiciera a bien para mi niño.
que Dios se lo pague.
One glance of your drunken eyes and I lost my faith
My life is now a tale of the past
Spent, and sacrificed at the temple of you
O wondrous intoxicating eyes, o wondrous long locks
O wondrous worshipper of wine, o wondrous enchanter
As he draws the sword, I bow my head to be slain in prostration
How wondrous is his beneficence how wondrous, my submission
In the moment of being slain, my eyes beheld your face
O wondrous kindness, o wondrous guidance
O wondrous flirting, o wondrous beguiling, O wondrous tilted cap, o wondrous tormentor. Do not reveal the Truth; in this world blasphemy prevails, Khusrau; O wondrous source of mystery, o wondrous knower of secrets.
Transliteration:
sarmad dardi ajab shikaste kardi
eman bafizae chasm-e-maste kardi
umre ke baya to ahadess guzasht
rafte-o-nisare butparaste kardi
chasm-e-maste ‘ajabe zulf taraze ‘ajabe
maiparaste ‘ajabe fitna taraze ‘ajabe
bahr-e-qatlam chu kashad teghe neham sar basujood
Ou banaaze ‘ajabe man banayaaze ‘ajabe
haq mago kalma-e-kufr ast dar in ja Khusrau
razdaane ‘ajabe sahib-r-raz-e-‘ajabe
chashm e maste ajabe zulf taraze ajabe…
Hafez
Translation:
The scent of your curling locks keeps me drunk constantly
the charm of your magic eyes leaves me wasted ceaselessly
After so much patience, O Lord, will I ever be able to light
the candle of my sight at the mihrab of your eyebrow?
The black of vision’s tablet is as dear as anything to me
Because it is the drawing of your black mole for my soul
If you wish to decorate the whole world forever
tell the dawn wind to lift the veil from your face for a time
I, from the sorcery of your intoxicating eyes,
and the dawn wind, from the scent of your hair, are two hopeless vagabonds
How great is Hafez’s zeal! For in his eye nothing appeared
of this world or the next, save the dust of your street
Original:
مُدامم مست می‌دارد نسیم جَعد گیسویت خرابم می‌کند هر دم فریب چَشم جادویت
پس از چندین شکیبایی شبی یا رب توان دیدن که شمع دیده افروزیم در محراب ابرویت؟
سواد لوح بینش را عزیز از بهر آن دارم که جان را نسخه‌ای باشد ز لوح خال هندویت
تو گر خواهی که جاویدان جهان یک سر بیارایی صبا را گو که بردارد زمانی بُرقع از رویت
و گر رسم فنا خواهی که از عالم براندازی برافشان تا فروریزد هزاران جان ز هر مویت
من و باد صبا مسکین دو سرگردانِ بی‌حاصل من از افسون چشمت مست و او از بوی گیسویت
زهی همت که حافظ راست از دنیا و از عُقبیٰ نیاید هیچ در چشمش بجز خاک سر کویت
Tonight I heard that you, oh beloved, would come –
Be my head sacrificed to the road along which you will come riding!
All the gazelles of the desert have put their heads on their hands
In the hope that one day you will come to hunt them….
The attraction of love won’t leave you unmoved;
Should you not come to my funeral,
You’ll definitely come to my grave.
My soul has risen to my lips (I am on the verge of death);
Come so that I may remain alive –
After I am no longer – for what purpose will you come?
Original:
Khabaram raseed imshab ki nigaar khuahi aamad;
Sar-e man fidaa-e raah-e ki sawaar khuahi aamad.
Ham-e aahwan-e sehra sar-e khud nihada bar kaf;
Ba-umeed aanki rozi bashikaar khuahi aamad.
Kashishi ki ishq daarad naguzaradat badinsaa;
Ba-janazah gar nayai ba-mazaar khuahi aamad.
Balabam raseed jaanam fabiya ki zindah maanam;
Pas azan ki man na-maanam bacha kar khuahi aaamad.
compare with this ghazal of Hafez:
Translation:
Last night, the wind told me of my friend who’s gone away
I will give my heart to the wind, come what may
It’s gotten to the point where my only friends are
the evening’s flashing lightning, the breeze at break of day
In the curl of your tress, my defenseless heart
never longed for the place where it once lay
Today I see the worth of the words they used to say
O Lord, bless those who warned me about this day
Recalling you, my heart would bleed whenever the wind
would undo the rosebud’s robe in flirting play
By dawn, my feeble existence had all but slipped away
When with hope of union with you, the wind brought a new day
Hafez, your beautiful nature will fulfill your desire
May good souls be sacrificed in beauty’s way
Original:
دوش آگهی ز یار سفرکرده داد باد من نیز دل به باد دهم هر چه باد باد
کارم بدان رسید که همراز خود کنم هر شام برق لامع و هر بامداد باد
در چین طره تو دل بی حفاظ من هرگز نگفت مسکن مالوف یاد باد
امروز قدر پند عزیزان شناختم یا رب روان ناصح ما از تو شاد باد
خون شد دلم به یاد تو هر گه که در چمن بند قبای غنچه گل می‌گشاد باد
از دست رفته بود وجود ضعیف من صبحم به بوی وصل تو جان بازداد باد
