Persian Visual Poems

Hafez’s poetry and Persian Miniatures come to life:



Love’s minstel has wonderful harmony and melody
Every song in his repertoire has a path to a place
May the world never be empty of the cry of lovers
Because it has a sweet and joyful voice
Although our dreg-draining Pir has neither gold nor force,
He has a sin-forgiving and fault-concealing God
My heart was honoured like this sugar-worshipping fly
Since he became Your desire, he has the splendor of the Huma
It is not far from justice, if the king asks around
about his neighbor the beggar
I showed my bloody tears to the physicians, they said:
“It’s love’s pain and the burning of the liver has the cure”
Avoid the tyranny of glances, for in Love’s way
 Each act has a recompense, and every deed, a reward
That idol of a Christian wine-seller said well:
“Enjoy the happiness on the face of a pure one”
O Great King!  Hafiz, a member of your court, recites the fatiha
And desires a prayer from your tongue


          مطرب عشق عجب ساز و نوایی دارد
 نقش هر نغمه که زد راه به جایی دارد
                    عالم از ناله عشاق مبادا خالی
که خوش آهنگ و فرح بخش صدايى دارد
     پیر دردی کش ما گر چه ندارد زر و زور
 خوش عطابخش و خطاپوش خدایی دارد
             محترم دار دلم کاین مگس قندپرست
 تا هواخواه تو شد فر همایی دارد
             از عدالت نبود دور گرش پرسد حال
 پادشاهی که به همسایه گدایی دارد
               اشک خونین بنمودم به طبیبان گفتند
 درد عشق است و جگرسوز دوایی دارد
         ستم از غمزه میاموز که در مذهب عشق
 هر عمل اجری و هر کرده جزایی دارد
           نغز گفت آن بت ترسابچه باده فروش
 شادی روی کسی خور که صفایی دارد
 خسروا حافظ درگاه نشین فاتحه خواند
 و از زبان تو تمنای دعایی دارد



The Peacock
Until your hair falls through the fingers of the breeze
My yearning heart lies torn apart with grief
 Black as sorcery, your magic eyes
Render this existence an illusion
 The dusky mole encircled by your curls
Is like the ink-drop falling in the curve of the jeem (ج)
 And wafting tresses in the perfect garden of your face,
Drop like a peacock falling into paradise
My soul searches for the comfort of a glance
Light as the dust arising from your path
Unlike the dust, this earthly body stumbles,
Falling at your threshold, falling fast
Your shadow falls across my frame
Like the breath of Jesus over withered bones
And those who turn to the Ka’aba as their sanctuary
Now with the knowledge of your lips, tumble at the tavern door
 O precious love, the suffering of your absence and lost Hafez
Fell and fused together with the ancient past



تا سر زلف تو در دست نسیم افتادست
دل سودازده از غصه دو نیم افتادست
چشم جادوی تو خود عین سواد سحر است
لیکن این هست که این نسخه سقیم افتادست
در خم زلف تو آن خال سیه دانی چیست
نقطه دوده که در حلقه جیم افتادست
زلف مشکین تو در گلشن فردوس عذار
چیست طاووس که در باغ نعیم افتادست
دل من در هوس روی تو ای مونس جان
خاک راهیست که در دست نسیم افتادست
همچو گرد این تن خاکی نتواند برخاست
از سر کوی تو زان رو که عظیم افتادست
سایه قد تو بر قالبم ای عیسی دم
عکس روحیست که بر عظم رمیم افتادست
آن که جز کعبه مقامش نبد از یاد لبت
بر در میکده دیدم که مقیم افتادست
حافظ گمشده را با غمت ای یار عزیز
اتحادیست که در عهد قدیم افتادست



The Fish
When my beloved offers the cup
Graven idols are crushed
 And those who gaze into that intoxicating eye
Cry out for the police
 I plunge into the ocean like a fish
Craving the beloved’s hook
 I fall pleading at those feet
In hope of a helping hand.
 Happy is the heart who like Hafez
Is drunk with the wine of pre-eternity


یارم چو قدح به دست گیرد
بازار بتان شکست گیرد
هر کس که بدید چشم او گفت
کو محتسبی که مست گیرد
در بحر فتاده‌ام چو ماهی
تا یار مرا به شست گیرد
در پاش فتاده‌ام به زاری
آیا بود آن که دست گیرد
خرم دل آن که همچو حافظ
جامی ز می الست گیرد



translations modified from Jila Peacock’s Ten Poems form Hafez. Sylph Editions, 2006

Those who believe are more intense in love…




Quran 2:165

وَمِنَ النَّاسِ مَن يَتَّخِذُ مِن دُونِ اللَّهِ أَندَادًا يُحِبُّونَهُمْ كَحُبِّ اللَّهِ ۖ وَالَّذِينَ آمَنُوا أَشَدُّ حُبًّا لِّلَّهِ ۗ وَلَوْ يَرَى الَّذِينَ ظَلَمُوا إِذْ يَرَوْنَ الْعَذَابَ أَنَّ الْقُوَّةَ لِلَّهِ جَمِيعًا وَأَنَّ اللَّهَ شَدِيدُ الْعَذَابِ



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.

Sheikh Lutfollah Mosque is standing on the eastern side of Naghsh-i Jahan Square, Isfahan. Construction of the mosque started in 1603 and was finished in 1619.

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.


—Futūḥāt IV 260.12; Trans. William Chittick “The Divine Roots of Human Love

Ibn al-Fāriḑ

If I say:  I have for you, each and every love
He says: Lovelieness is mine and every beauty is in me


إنْ قُلْتُ:عِندي فيكَ كل صَبابة ٍ؛       قالَ:المَلاحة ُ لي، وكُلُّ الحُسْنِ في

Turn your gaze to the beauties of his face,
Where all beauty has been gathered
If all beauty were perfected into one form
on seeing him, it would exclaim [in wonder],
“There is no god but God, and God is greater.”


فأَدِرْ لِحَاظَكَ في محاسنِ وجْهه            تَلْقَى جميعَ الحُسْنِ فيه مُصَوَّرا
لو أنّ كُلّ الحُسْنِ يكمُلُ صُورةً                    ورآهُ كان مُهَلِّلاً ومُكَبِّر




Her mystery flows through everything
so everything inclines towards her


Whoever witnesses the secret of her beauty says
that it is everywhere, but its fullness is hidden
كل  شِي   سرُها   فيه     سَرَى        فلذا   يثنى   عليها   كل      شيْ
قال  مَن  أشهدَ   معنى   حُسنها        إِنه     منتشرُ     والكل     طيْ


She is adorned with each and every kind of beauty
And the people of passion are mad with love for her, wherever she appears.

تحلّت بأنواع الجمال بأسرها                  فهام بها أهل الهوى حيثُ حلّت




Everyone, sober or drunk, seeks the beloved.
Every place, be it mosque or synagogue, is the house of love
همه كس طالب يارند چه هشيار و چه مست
همه جا خانه عشق است چه مسجد چه كنشت
Various ways have those who love from (mere) passion
But I have a unique way,  in which I dwell alone.”

مذاهب شتى للمحبّين في الهوى            و لي مدهب فرد أعيش به وحدي

“Have you ever seen anything more lovely?”
I said, “is there anything else in existence?”




We all long for her loveliness
on earth, in skies above
There is no other beauty
and nothing else to love


I said, “all my love is yours
all loves and for all time.”
She said, “it’s only fitting since
every beauty is mine.”


Love loves Love
and Love is One
that is all there is below
and all there is above






Hafez in qawwal

This ghazal, attributed to Hafez, is probably not by him, but is still beautiful nonetheless.




I saw Beloved in the Stranger
I saw a Flower in the Ash

The one the Preacher so tried to hide
I saw that Beloved in the square.

In every direction, the splendor of Beloved, I see
In every thing, the beauty of my Love, I see

I don’t see anything without It
But in every corner and bazaar, Love I see

My selfhood does not belong to me
My own beauty as Beloved’s beauty, I see

The prayer of the ascetic is on mihrab and minbar
The prayer of the Lovers on the gallows, I see

So suddenly your righteousness is gone Hāfez
Now reason and intellect as useless, I see.




بہ هر سو جلوہ دلدار دیدم
بہ هر چیز جمال یار دیدم
نديدم هيچ شي را خالي از او
پر از او كوچه و بازار ديدم
    چو خود را بنگرم دیدم همون است
  جمالی خود جمالی یار دیدم
نماز زاهدان محراب و منبر
نماز عاشقان بر دار دیدمم
جو يك رسيد از غيب حافظ
همه عقل و خرد بكار ديدم


The Wisdom of Khusrau

Poverty is more pleasant than majesty;
      depravity, more pleasant than piety.
Majesty has its headaches, and when last I looked
      beggary was more pleasant.
Since kings let no one approach them,
      being indigent among the poor is more pleasant
When pride gets into someone’s head,
      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



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

islamic geometry 2
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

Islamic Geometry 1,  2012, flasche on canvas, 36x36


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




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.


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

Amir Chakhmaq Mosque Facade - Yazd, Iran


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.

Iranian Tiles


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:



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



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


Two Ghazals from Hafez

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)







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

cieling Lotfollah


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






 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




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?



Add. 18113



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


You make me forget myself…

Amir Khusro

I dressed myself up to go see my Love
but when I saw him, I forgot myself
you robbed me of everything
when our eyes met


You made me drink love’s elixir
and I got drunk
when our eyes met


My fair arms with green bangles
you took by the wrist
when our eyes met


Again and again I bow to you
my cloth-dyer whose dye colours everyhting
you dyed me in yourself
when our eyes met


You became the charming lover—
you left me breathless
when our eyes met


Khusro gives his life to you, Nizam
you made me a bride
when our eyes met



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




With my beautiful face all adorned, when I went to the beloved,
I saw his face, and forgot all about my own beauty.
Apni chhab banaikay, jo main pi kay paas gayi
Chhab dekhi jab piyu ki so apni bhool gayi.




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




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


Hafez: Minstrel vs. Philosopher

The minstrel played a melody from the pain of love

that covered the philosopher’s eyelashes in blood


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


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






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



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.

Hafez: the rose began to burn

Processed with VSCOcam with p5 preset
If you have news of the state of the heart, tell me!
or if you have any idea of where He is, tell me!
I know death, but until to alley of the Friend
if you have a shortcut, tell me!
گر ز حال دل خبر داری بگو
ور نشانی مختصر داری بگو
مرگ را دانم ، ولی تا کوی دوست
راه اگر نزدیک تر داری بگو



Friends, it is better to work for joy in the season of the rose
    this is the talk of the people of the heart, let us listen closely
No one is generous and the time for pleasure is going fast
    so let’s sell our prayer mats for wine
The weather is lovely and joyful
    O God, send us a beauty to whose face we can drink rosy wine
The organist of heaven is the artists’ bandit
    how can we not cry from this grief? 
The rose began to burn, but we didn’t splash water on it
    so we are boiling with the fire of lack and desire
From the tulip’s cup we drink imaginary wine
    evil eye begone! We are drunk without musician or wine.
Hafez, whom can we tell about this strange state?
    We are nightingales silent in the season of the rose.


Processed with VSCOcam with p5 preset


دوستان وقت گل آن به که به عشرت کوشیم
سخن اهل دل است این و به جان بنیوشیم
نیست در کس کرم و وقت طرب می‌گذرد
چاره آن است که سجاده به می بفروشیم
خوش هواییست فرح بخش خدایا بفرست
نازنینی که به رویش می گلگون نوشیم
ارغنون ساز فلک رهزن اهل هنر است
چون از این غصه ننالیم و چرا نخروشیم
گل به جوش آمد و از می نزدیمش آبی
لاجرم ز آتش حرمان و هوس می‌جوشیم
می‌کشیم از قدح لاله شرابی موهوم
چشم بد دور که بی مطرب و می مدهوشیم
حافظ این حال عجب با که توان گفت که ما
بلبلانیم که در موسم گل خاموشیم

Processed with VSCOcam with p5 preset

Drunk eyes…


Amir Khusro




This eternal pain has left me broken
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.





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

waqt-e-bismil shudanam chashm barooyash baz ast
mehrbaane ‘ajabe bandanawaaze ‘ajabe

turk taaze ‘ajabe shoba babaaze ‘ajabe
kajkhulaahe ‘ajabe ‘abrada saze ‘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…







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




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 learned that you would come

Another poem of Amir Khusrow:


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?



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:


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




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
حافظ نهاد نیک تو کامت برآورد
جان‌ها فدای مردم نیکونهاد باد

mughal rose