Hafez Ghazal 1

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Ghazal of Hafez Shirazi In Persian with English translation

Original Translation by Henry Wilberforce Clarke (1840-1905) Part 1 (version 1.03)

Compiled and Corrected by Dr. Behrouz Homayoun Far

[email protected] http://www.enel.ucalgary.ca/People/far

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Preface

The translations appearing in this collection are by Henry Wilberforce Clarke who used the

Upjohn’s Calcutta version (1791) of Divan of Hafez in 1891. The original Calcutta edition had a

number of mistakes and it is verified that some of the poems do not belong to Hafez and are added

afterwards. The most reliable edition of Divan is published at Tehran in 1320/1941 under the

editorship of Mirza Mohammad Qazvini and Dr Qasem Ghani. This edition has admitted 495

ghazals as unquestionably genuine, beside 3 qasidehs, 2 mathnavis, 34 occasional pieces

(muqatta’at) and 42 robais, a total of 573 poems. I have selected those poems that appear in

Qazvini and Ghani edition and partially rewritten some of the translations to be more poetic and

understandable.

Dr. Behrouz Homayoun Far

2001/10/6

Calgary, Canada

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(1) Ho! O Saki, pass around and offer the bowl: For love at first appeared easy, but difficulties have occurred. By reason of the perfume of the musk-pod, that, at the end, the breeze displayeth from that fore-lock, From the twist of its musky curl, what blood befell the hearts! In the stage of the Beloved, mine what ease and pleasure, when momently, The beil giveth voice, saying: “Bind ye up the chattels of existence!” With wine, becolor the prayer-mat if the Pir of the Magians bid thee; For of the way and usage of the stages not without knowledge is the holy traveler. The dark night, and the fear of the wave, and the whirlpool so fearful. The light-burdened ones of the shore, how know they our state? By following my own fancy, me to ill fame all my work brought: Secret, how remaineth that great mystery whereof assemblies speak? Hafez! if thou desire the presence from Him be not absent: When thou visitest thy Beloved, abandon the world; and let it go.

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(2) The rectitude of work, where? and, I ruined where? Behold the distance of the Path, from where to where? My heart wearied of the cloister, and of the patched garment of hypocrisy: The Magians’ cloister; where? the pure wine where? With profligacy, what connections have rectitude and piety? The hearing of the exhortation where? The melody of the stringed instrument where? From the Friend’s face, what gaineth the dark heart of enemies? The dead lamp, where? The candle of the resplendent sun, where? The dust of Thy threshold is like the kuhl of our vision: Where go we? Order. Hence, where? Look not at the apple of the chin; for in the path is a pit: O heart! where goest thou? With this haste, where? He is gone! To him, be the time of union a pleasant memory. Gone is that glance, where? and that reproof, where? O friend! from Hafez seek neither ease nor patience: Ease, what? Patience, what? Sleep, where?

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(3) If that Bold One of Shiraz gain our heart, For His dark mole, I will give Samarkand and Bukhara. Said! give the wine remaining; for, in Paradise, thou wilt not have The bank of the water of the Ruknabad nor the rose of the garden of Musalla. Alas! These saucy dainty ones sweet of work, the torment of the city, Take patience from the heart even as the men of Turkistan the tray of plunder. The beauty of the Beloved is in no need of our imperfect love: Of lustre, and color, and mole and tricked line, what need hath the lovely face? By reason of that beauty, daily increasing that Yusof had, I know That Love for Him would bring Zulaikha forth from the screen of chastity. Thou spakest ill of me; and I am happy. God Most High forgive thee thou spakest well: The bitter reply suiteth the ruby lip, sugar-eating. O Soul! Hear the counsel, for, dearer than the soul, Hold happy youths the counsel of the wise old man. The tale of minstrel and of wine utter; little seek the mystery of time; For this mystery, none solved by skill; and shall not solve. Thou utteredest a ghazal; and threadedest pearls. Hafez! come and sweetly sing That, on thy verse, the sky may scatter the cluster of the Pleiades.

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(4) O breeze! with softness speak to the beautiful fawn, Saying: Thou hast given to us desire for the mountain and the desert. The sugar-seller, whose life be long! why Maketh he no inquiry of the welfare of the parrot sugar of devouring? O rose! perhaps the pride of beauty hath not given thee permission, That thou makest no inquiry as to the state of the distraught nightingale. By beauty of disposition, people of vision one can captivate: Not by snare and net, take they the wise bird. I know not why the color of constancy, they have not Those straight of stature, dark of eye, moon of face. When thou sittest with the beloved; and drinkest wine, Bring to mind the beloved ones, wind-measuring. Of defect in thy beauty, one cannot speak save to this degree That the way of love and of constancy belongeth not to the lovely face. On the sky, what if, of Hafez’s utterances Zuhra’s singing should bring to dancing the Masiha.

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(5) For God’s sake. O pious ones! forth from the hand, goeth my heart. For God’s sake: O the pain that the hidden mystery should be disclosed. We are boat-stranded ones! O fair breeze! arise: It may be that, again, we may behold the face of the Beloved. For the space of ten days, the sphere’s favor is magic and sorcery: O friend! regard as booty, goodness in friends. Last night in the assembly of the rose and of wine, the bulbul sweetly sang: O Saki! give wine: O intoxicated ones! come to life! O generous one! in thanks for thy own safety One day, make inquiry of the welfare of the foodless darvish. The ease of two worlds is the explanation of these two words: With friends, kindness; with enemies, courtesy. In the street of good name, they gave us no admission: If thou approve not, change our Fate. That bitter wine, which the Sufi called “The mother of iniquities,” To us, is more pleasant and more sweet than the kisses of virgins. In the time of straitedness, strive in pleasure and in intoxication: For, this elixir of existence maketh the beggar Karun. Don’t rebel, due to defiance thou burnt like candle Darling in whose hands granite is like wax soft The cup of wine is Sikandar’s mirror. Behold So that it may show thee the state of Dara’s kingdom. Life-givers, are the lovely ones, Persian-prattling: O Saki! this news, give to the old men of Fars. Of himself, Hafez put not on this patched, wine-stained garment O Shaikh, pure of sins! hold us excused.

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(6) To the Sultan’s attendants, who will convey this prayer “In thanks for sovereignty, away from sight drive not the beggar?” From the watcher, demon of nature, I take shelter in my God Perchance that gleaming light may, for God’s sake, give a little aid. If Thy dark eye-lash made for our blood, O Idol! think of its deceit; and, make no mistake When Thou enkindlest thy face, Thou consumest a world, From this, what profit hast Thou that Thou doest no kindness All night, in this hope I am that the breeze of dawn, With the message of lovers, will cherish the lover. O Beloved! what is the tumult that to lovers thou displayedest Thy face like the gleaming moon, Thy stature like the heart-ravishing cypress? O Murshed! to the lover Hafez morning-rismg, give thou, for God’s sake, a draught, May his prayer of the morning-time avail thee!

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(7) O Sufi! come; for bright is the mirror of the cup: That thou mayst see the brightness of the wine of ruby hue. Of profligates intoxicated as the mystery within the veil; For, this state is not the Zahed’s, lofty of degree. The Anka is the prey of none. Up-pluck thy snare: For, here ever, in the hand of the snare, is wind. At time’s banquet, enjoy one or two cups; and go: Verily desire not perpetual union. O heart! youth’s vigor hath departed; and, from life, thou hast not plucked a single rose: Elderly of head, show skill of name and fame. Strive in the pleasure of the present. As, when no water remained, “Adam let go the garden of the house of safety.” On our part, at thy threshold, many are thy rights of service. O Sir! again, in pity, look upon thy slave. The disciple of the cup of Jamshid is Hafez. O breeze, go: And give salutation from the slave to the Shaikh of Jam.

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(8) O Saki! arise; and give the cup: Strew dust on the head of the grief of time. In my palm, place the cup of wine so that, from my breast, I may pluck off this patched garment of blue color. Although in the opinion of the wise, ill-fame is ours, Not name nor fame, do we desire. Give wine! with this wind of pride, how long, Dust on the head of useless desire? The smoke of the sigh of my burning heart Consumed these immature ones. Of the secret of my distraught heart, a friend, Among high and low, none, I see. Glad is my heart with a heart’s ease, Who, from my heart, once took ease. At the cypress in the sward, again looketh not That one, who beheld that cypress of silvern limb. Hafez! day and night, be patient, in adversity: So that, in the end, thou mayst, one day, gain thy desire.

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(9) The splendor of youth’s time again belongeth to the garden; The glad tidings of the rose reacheth the bulbul sweet of song. O breeze! if again thou reach the youths of the meadow, Convey our service to the cypress, the rose, and the sweet basil. If the young Magian, wine-seller, display such splendor, I will make my eye-lash the dust-sweeper of the door of the wine-house. O thou that drawest, over the moon, the polo of purest ambergris, Make not distraught of state, me of revolving head. This crowd that laugheth at those drinking the wine-dregs, I fear? They will, in the end, ruin their Faith. Be the friend of the men of God; for, in Noah’s ark, Was a little dust, that purchased not the deluge for a drop of water. Forth from the house of the sphere, go; and bread, seek not. For, in the end, this dark cup slayeth the guest. To him, whose last sleeping-place is with two handfuls of earth, Say “Thine what need to exalt the turrets to the sky?” My moon of Kan’an! the throne of Egypt is thine: The time is that when thou shouldst did farewell to the prison. Hafez! drink wine; practice profligacy and be happy; but, Like others, make not the Kuran the snare of deceit.

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(10) Last night from the Masjed towards the wine tavern our Pir came: O friends of the Path! after this, what is our plan? How may we, disciples, turn to the Ka’ba, when Our Pir hath his face towards the house of the Vintner. In the Fire-worshipper’s Tavern we also shall be lodging; For, in the Covenant of eternity without beginning, even so was our destiny. In the bond of His tress, how happy is the Heart! If Wisdom know, In pursuit of our tress-chain, the wise will become distraught. By its grace, Thy beautiful face explained to us a verse of the Koran: For that reason, in our explanation, is naught save grace and beauty. A single night, against Thy stony heart, ever effecteth aught Our sigh, fire-raining and the burning of our heart in the night-time? Beyond the sphere passeth the arrow of our sigh. Hafez! silence. Show compassion to thy soul; avoid the arrow of ours.

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(11) Saki! with the light of wine, up-kindle the cup of ours. Minstrel! speak, saying: “The world’s work hath gone to the desire of ours.” In the cup, we have beheld the reflection of the face of the Beloved O thou void of knowledge of the joy of the perpetual wine-drinking of ours. Never dieth that one, whose heart is alive with love: On the world’s record, is written the everlasting existence of ours. The coy glance and the grace of those straight of stature till With grace, moving like a lofty pine-tree, cometh the cypress of ours. O breeze! if thou pass by the rose-bed of beloved ones, Take care! present to the beloved the message of ours. From thy memory, our name why purposely takest thou? Itself cometh, when cometh no recollection of ours. To the eye of our heart-binding beloved pleasing is intoxication For that reason, to intoxication they have given the rein of ours. On the day of up-rising, I fear, a profit taketh not. The lawful bread of the Shaikh, more than the unlawful water of ours. Hafez! from thy eye, keep shedding a tear-drop; It may be, that the bird of union may attempt the snare of ours. The green sea of sky, and the bark of the new moon, Are immersed in the favor of Haji Kivam of ours.

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(12) O! the splendor of the moon-beauty from the illumined face of Thine! The lustre of beauteousness from the chin-dimple of Thine! My soul at the lip desireth the sight of Thee: Back it goeth; forth, it cometh; what order is Thine? ‘ By the revolution of Thy eye, none obtained a portion of enjoyment: Best, that they sell the veil of chastity to the intoxicated ones of Thine. Our sleep-stained fortune will, perchance, become vigilant, On that account that a little water on its eye, expressed that gleaming face of Thine. Along with the wind, send from Thy cheek a handful of roses: It may be that I may perceive a perfume from the dust of the rose garden of Thine. O Sakis of the banquet of Jam, long be your life; desire., Although our cup be not full of wine at the circulation of yours. My heart worketh desolation. Inform the heart-possessor: Verily, O friends, I swear by soul of mine and soul of Thine. O Lord! when these desires, that are our companions appear, Collected will be the heart of ours; and dishevelled the tress of Thine. When by us, Thou passest, from dust and from blood keep far thy skirt: For, on this Path many a one hath become a sacrifice of Thine. O breeze! from us, to the dwellers of Yazd say: The head of those not recognizing truths the polo ball of yours. From the plain of propinquity, though we be far, not far is desire: The slave of your King we are, and the praise-utterer of yours. O King of Kings, lofty of star! for God’s sake, a blessing, That, like the sky, I may kiss the dust of the court of yours. Hafez uttereth a prayer. Listen: say an amin! Be my daily food the lips sugar-scattering of Thine.

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(13) The morning blossometh; and the cloud bindeth a veil: O companions! the morning cup! the morning cup! The hail droppeth on the face of the tulip: O companions! the wine! the wine! From the sward bloweth the breeze of Paradise: Then, ever drink pure wine. In the sward, the rose hath fixed its emerald throne: Get wine like the fiery ruby! Again, they have closed the door of the tavern: O Opener of doors! open! At such a time, ‘tis wonderful That hastily they close the tavern. O cheers to the glamorous Saki Like Hafez drink pure wine, then.

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(14) I said: “O Sultan of lovely ones! show pity to this poor stranger.” He said: “In the desire of his own heart, loseth his way the wretched stranger.” To Him, I said: “Pass awhile with me.” He replied: “Hold me excused.” A home nurtured one, what care beareth he for such griefs of the poor stranger? To the gently nurtured one, asleep on the royal ermine, what grief, If, should make the couch of thorn; and, the pillow of the hard stone, the poor stranger. O thou in the chain of whose tress, are the souls of so many lovers, Happily, fell that musky mole, on thy colored cheek, so strange. In the color of the moon-like face, appeareth the reflection of wine: Like the leaf of the Arghavan on the surface of the wild red rose, strange Strangely hath fallen that ant-line around thy face: Yet, in the picture gallery the musky line is not strange. I said: “O thou tress of night-hue, the evening of the stranger! “In the morning time, beware, if his need bewail this stranger.” He said: “Hafez!, friends are in the stage of astonishment:” “Far it is not, if shattered and wretched sitteth the stranger.”

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(15) O chaste beloved! Who draweth the fastening of the veil of thee? O bird of Paradise! grain and water, who giveth thee? Went sleep from my eye in this liver-consuming thought Whose bosom is the dwelling and sleeping place of thee Tue darvish, thou askest not! and I fear that there is Neither thought of his forgiveness, nor care for his punishment, to thee. That eye of intoxication struck the path of the lover’s heart: From this way, ‘tis manifest that wine is intoxicated of thee. The great arrow of a glance that, at my heart, thou castedest, missed: Let us see what designeth the good judgement of thee. The wail and plaint that I made, all thou heardest not: O idol! ‘tis manifest that lofty is the station of thee. In this desert, the water pool is far. Keep sense, So that the creatures of the desert, may not, with the mirage, deceive thee. O heart! while in the path of old age, by what way goest thou? In mistake, all at once, became expended the season of youth of thee. O thou heart-kindling palace that art the dwelling of affection, O Lord! ruined, let not the calamity of time make thee. Hafez is not a slave who fleeth from his master, Show a little kindness; come back; for I am ruined through reproach of thee.

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(16) The great curve that, into the bow, thy told eye-brow cast, In design of the blood of me, miserable, powerless, it cast. Not the picture of the two worlds was, when was the color of love: Not at this time, Love’s foundation, did Time cast. With one glance, in boasting, that the Narcissus made A hundred calamities into the world, thy eye’s deceit cast. Wine drunk, sweat expressed when thou wentest to the sward: That fire into the ruddy Arghavan, thy sweat cast. Me, drunken passing the lawn yard The bud of Thy lips made me think, last night. The violet fastened u p her twisted tresses: Before the assembly, the tale of Thy tress, the wind cast. Through shame of that one who likened it to thy face, Dust into her own mouth, by the hand of the wind, the lily cast. Through austerity, I should never have seen the wine or the minstrel. Into this and into that, desire for young Magians cast. Now, with water of ruby wine, I wash my religious garment: From one’s self, the lot of eternity without beginning one cannot cast. Perchance in this disastrous state, was the opening of Hafez, Whom, into the wine of Magians, the destiny of eternity without beginning cast. Now, the world becometh to my desire. For time’s revolution Me, into the service of the Khwaja of the world, cast.

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(17) From the fire of my heart, my chest in grief for the Beloved consumed. In this house, was a fire, that the house consumed. From the farness of the Heart-Ravisher, my body melted: From Love’s fire for the Beloved’s face, my soul consumed. Behold the heart’s burning! For, from the great fire of my tears, the candle’s heart, Last night, from Love’s desire, like the moth, consumed. Strange it is not that the Friends are heart-consuming: When out of myself, I went, the stranger’s heart consumed. The water of the tavern took my religious garment of austerity: My house of reason, the fire of the tavern consumed. As the cup of my heart broke from the repentance that I made, My liver, like a wine flagon, without wine and the tavern, consumed. O Admonisher! make little talk; come back. For, the man of my eye Plucked, from off my head, the religious garment; and, in thanks, consumed. Hafez! Abandon idle talk; and, awhile, drink wine: For, last night, we slept not; and, with this idle talk, the candle consumed.

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(18) O Saki! be the coming of the new year auspicious to thee: And these promises thou madest, let them not go from thy memory. In astonishment, I am that, at this period of time of separation, Thou tookest up thy heart from the companions; and he gave thee his heart. Cause the attendance of the daughter of the vine to reach. Say: come out: For the breath of resolution of us hath made thee free of the bond. In the foot of thy arrival, is the joy of the people of the assembly Griefs place be every heart that joy wisheth thee not! Thanks to God that from this autumnal wind, no injury received Thy garden of the jasmine, of the cypress, of the rose, and of the tox-tree. Far, the evil eye! For, from that separation, happily brought back Thee, renowned fortune and mother-born luck. Hafez! From the hand, surrender not association with this Ark of Noah: If not, thy foundation the deluge of vicissitudes will take.

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(19) O fragrant morning breeze! The Beloved’s rest-place is where? The dwelling of that Moon, Lover-slayer, Sorcerer, is where? Dark is the night; and in front, the path of the Valley of Aiman: The fire of Toor where? The time and the place of promise of beholding is where? Whoever came to this world hath the mark of ruin: In the tavern, ask ye saying: “The sensible one is where?” One of glad tidings is he who knoweth the sign: Many are the subtleties. The confidant of mysteries is where? Every hair-tip of mine hath a thousand bits of work with Thee: We, are where? And, the reproacher, void of work, is where? Reason hath become distraught: that musky tress, where? From us, the heart hath taken the corner: the eye-brow of the heart-possessor - is where? The cup, and the minstrel, and the rose, all are ready. But, ease without the Beloved is not attainable. The Beloved is where? Hafez! grieve not of the autumn wind in the sward of the world: Exercise reasonable thought. The rose without the thorn is where?

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(20) The fast a side hath gone; and the Id hath come; and hearts have risen: In the wine-house, the wine hath come into tumult; and it is necessary to ask. The season of austerity boasters, weighty of life, hath passed: Hath risen, the time of gladness and of joy-making of profligates. Him, who like us drinketh the cup, what reproach reacheth? In regard to the profligate lover, neither is defect, nor is fault. That wine-drinker in whom is neither the face, nor hypocrisy, Is better than an austerity-boaster, in whom is the face of hypocrisy. We are neither hypocritical profligates, nor the companions of hypocrisy: Witness to this state is He, who “is the Knower-of-hearts.” The ordinances of God, we perform; and do evil to none: Whatever they say is “unlawful,” we say not “it is lawful.” What mattereth it - if thou and I drink some goblets of wine? Wine is of the blood of grapes; it is not of your blood. This is not the defect that, from this defect, injury will be: And if it be the defect, what matter? The man without defect is where?

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(21) Went heart and faith; and the Heart-Ravisher with reproach arose, And said: “Sit not with me; for, from thee, safety hath risen.” Of whom heardest thou, who at this banquet, hath awhile sat happy: Who, at the end of the companionship, not in remorse hath risen. If, with its tongue, the candle expressed a boast of that laughing face In fine, nights before thy lovers, it hath risen. In the sward, from the border of the rose and the cypress, the spring breeze, In longing for that cheek and stature of Thine, hath risen. Intoxicated, Thou passedest by, and from the Khilvatis of angels The tumult of resurrection at the sight of Thee hath risen. Before thy gait, from shame its foot uplifted not, The head-extending cypress that, with grace of stature and of form, hath risen. Hafez! cast off this religious garment. Perchance thou mayst take thy life: For, from the religious garment of hypocrisy and of miracle, fire hath risen.

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(22) O Heart-ravisher! thou art not a speech-recognizer. Here, the fault is: When thou hearest the speech of people of heart speak not saying: “A fault it is.” Neither to this world, nor to the next world, boweth my head Blessed be God! for this tumult that, in our head, is. Within this shattered heart, I know not who is. For, I am silent; and in clamour and tumult, it is. Forth from the screen, went my heart. O Minstrel! where art thou? Ho! sing. For, on account of this note, in melody, our work is. To the world’s work, never was ‘attention mine; In my sight, Thy face its happy adorner thus is. From a fancy that I mature, nights I have not slept: Wine-sickness of a hundred nights, I have: the wine-house, where is? With my heart’s blood, thus it is that the cloister became stained: If ye wash me in wine, lawful at your hand it is? In the cloister of the magians, me dear they hold for the reason That, in our heart, a fire that dieth not ever is. What was the melody that last night, the minstrel played? Life passed; and yet, full of that melody, my brain is? Last night, within my heart, the announcement of love for Thee, they gave Yet, with desire, full of that voice, the plain of my heart is?

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(23) In every path of Islam, the image of Thy face fellow traveler of ours is. Ever, the perfume of Thy hair, the soul-informer of ours is. In grief of those claimants, who forbid love, The beauty of Thy face, the approved argument of ours is. Behold, what saith the apple of Thy chin! “Many a Yusuf of Egypt fallen into the pit, of ours is.” If to our hand reach not Thy long tress, The sin of the perturbed fortune, and of the short-hand of ours is. To the chamberlain of the door of the private chamber, say: “Of those corner-sitting, a certain one, the dust of the court of Ours is. Although, apparently, He is veiled from our sight, He, ever, in the sight of the tranquil heart, of ours is. If, as a beggar, Hafez knock that door, open: For, it is years since he, desirous of the moon-like face of Ours was.

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(24) From me intoxicated, is the desire of devotion and of covenant, and of rectitude; For, in Eternity without beginning, I became renowned for wine-drinking. The every moment when, with the fountain of Love, I performed ablution, I expressed completely on all that is, four Laudations, Allah Akbar! Give wine that I may give thee news of the mystery of Fate: By whose face, I became a Lover; and by whose perfume, intoxicated. Here, less than the ants’ waist is the waist of the mountain: O wine-worshipper! Be not hopeless of the door of God’s mercy. Save that intoxicated eye the eye reach him not! None state happy beneath this turquoise vault. Be my soul the ransom of Thy mouth! For, in the garden of vision, The Parterre-arrayer of the World established no rose-bud more sweet than this rose-bud. Through the fortune of Love for thee, Hafez became a Soleiman: That is Or Union with thee, he hath naught in hand save wind.

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(25) Blossomed is the red rose; and intoxicated is the nightingale; The invitation to merriment O Lovers, wine-worshipping! The foundation of penitence that, firm as a rock, appeared, How the crystal cup hath shattered it, behold! Bring wine! for, in the Court of the Independent One, Whether the shepherd or the Sultan; whether sensible or insensible Since there is necessity for departing from this Inn of two doors. The gallery and the arch of thy living, whether lofty or low Unattainable, is the place of ease without toil: Yes: with the decree of calamity they established the “day of Alast.” Grieve neither at existence nor at non-existence: Be thy mind, happy. For the end of every perfection that is - is non-existence. The pomp of being an Asaf, the wind-steed, and the language of birds Went to the wind; and from them, the Khwaja obtained no profit. With the wing and the feather go not from the Path. For, the arrow far-flying Keepeth, the air awhile; but, at last, lieth in the dust. Hafez! What thanks, uttereth the tongue of thy reed for the reason that They take the utterance of its speech from hand to hand?

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(26) Tress dishevelled; sweat expressed; lip laughing; intoxicated; Garment rent; song-singing; goblet in His hand; Eye, contest-seeking; lip lamenting Came, at midnight, last night, to my pillow; sate. To my ear, He brought His head; in a low soft voice, Said: “O my distraught Lover! sleep is thine”. That Aref, to whom they give wine like this, night-watching Is infidel to love, if he be not wine-worshipper. O Zahed! go: seize not a small matter against the drinkers of wine-dregs: For, save this gift, naught did they give us on the day of Alast. Of whatever, He poured into our cup, we have drunk; Whether it be of the wine of Paradise, or of the cup of intoxication. The laughter of the cup of wine; and the knot-seizing tress of the Beloved O many a repentance, hath it shattered like the repentance of Hafez

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(27) Into the Magian’s cloister, came my Friend a goblet in His hand: With wine intoxicated, He with his eye intoxicated the wine-dirnkers. In His steed’s hoof, appeared the form of the new moon From His lofty stature, low, the stature of the lofty cypress. Well, wherefore, shall I say: “Existence” when no knowledge of myself is mine? Wherefore shall I say: “Non-existence” when my expectation is with Him? When He arose, the candle of the heart of friends went out: When He sate down, the spectators’ clamour arose. If noisome civet became fragrant, it was associated with His tress: If indigo became a bowman, it was associated with His eye-brow. Come back that Hafez’s spent life may come back: Although the arrow that hath sped from the aim cometh not back.

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(28) By the Khwaja’s soul, and by ancient right, and by true covenant, That, at the breath of dawn, prayer for thy welfare is my companion. My tears, that surpass Noah’s deluge, Have not washed the picture of Thy love from the heart’s tablet. Strike the bargain; purchase this shattered heart, That, despite its shattered state, is worth many an unshattered. Against Asaf, the tongue of the ant became long in reproach; and, it is lawful: For, the Khwaja lost the seal of Jam; and, sought not. O heart! of the endless kindness of the Friend hope, sever not: When thou boastest of love, quickly and instantly play thy head. Be honest and see the sun comes out of thy breath At the outset, the liar was disgraced. By Thy hand, I became distraught for the mountain and the plain: In pity Thou loosest not my waist-chain. Hafez! grieve not! and constancy from heart-ravishers seek not: The crime of the garden, what is it, when this grass hath not sprung.

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(29) With fancy for Thee, what desire for wine is ours? To the jar say: “Take thy head; for the jar-house is ruined.” If it be the wine of Paradise, spill it. For without the Friend, Every draft of sweet water that thou givest is the very essence of torment. Alas! The Heart-Ravisher nath departed; and in the weeping eye The picturing of the fancy of a letter from Him is the picture on water. O eye! be vigilant. For, one cannot be safe, From this lasting torrent that occurreth in the stage of sleep. The Beloved One openly passeth, by thee; but Keepeth seeing strangers. On that account, the Beloved is veil-bound. Since the rose beheld the grace of sweet on thy colored cheek, In envy’s fire, through the heart’s grief, it is immersed in rose-water. The world around is green and so green, but the world is only a mirage. In the corner of my brain, seek no place of counsel: For this cell is full of the hum of the harp and of the ribab. If Hafez be lover, or profligate, or glance-player, what then? In the time of youth, many a strange way is necessary.

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(30) With a single hair of its, a thousand hearts, the tress bound, The path of a thousand remedies bound. So that all may give their soul to the perfume of the great breeze, He opened the musk-pod; and, the door of desire bound. Distraught, I became on that account that, my Beloved, like the new moon His eye-brow, displayed; gracefully moved; and His face bound. The Saki poured, into the cup, the wine of many colors: These pictures, behold how beautifully in the wine-vessel, he bound. O Lord! What glance of sorcery made the long-necked goglet, that the blood of the jar, Notwithstanding the sweet sounds of its guggling, its throat bound. In the circle of sama’, what note played the minstrel that On the people of joy and understanding, the door of lowly matters he bound? Hafez! Who practiced not love; and union desired Without ablution, the Ihram of the Tawf of the Ka’ba, bound.

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(31) What men of our closed circle call “the Night of Power” to-night is. O Lord! from what constellation, this effect of fortune is? In order that the hand of those unfit may rarely reach Thy trees, Every heart, in the circle, in the prayer of “O Lord! O Lord!” is. I am one slain by Thy chin-dimple. For, from every side, Beneath Thy chin-dimple, many a neck of souls is. My horseman, the mirror-holder of whose face is the moon, The crown of the lofty sun, the dust of the hoof of his steed is. Behold the reflection of sweat on His cheek! For the sun, ardent of face. As long as it is, daily in desire of this sweat, ardent is. I will not abandon the ruby lip of the Beloved, nor the wine-cup, Zaheds! hold me excused: for, my religious order, this is. Who beneath his eye dischargeth an arrow at my heart, In the smile beneath His lip the life-sustenance of Hafez is. The water of life trickleth from the beak of my eloquence. In God’s name! what a lofty drinker the black crow of my pen is!

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(32) When the form of thy heart alluring eye-brow, God established. In thy glances, the solving of my work, He established. From my heart and the heart of the bird of the sward. He took ease, When, in the morn, the heart of both in lament for thee, He established. From our work, and from the heart of the rose-bud, a hundred knots it loosed, When, in desire of thee, its own heart the breeze of the rose established. With Thy bond, the sphere’s revolution made me content: But, what profit, when, the end of the thread in Thy will, it established. On my wretched heart, cast not a knot like the musk-pod. For, with Thy tress, knot-loosening, a covenant it established. O Breeze of union! thou thyself wast another life: Behold my fault that, hope in fidelity to Thee, my heart established. l said: “On account of thy violence, I shall depart from the city:” Laughing, the beloved spake saying: “Hafez! go Thy foot, who established?”

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(33) To him that hath chosen solitude, of the spectacle is what need? When the street of the Beloved is, of the desert is what need? O Soul! By the need of God that is thine, At last, a moment, ask, saying: “Ours is what need?” O Sovereign of beauty! For God’s sake, I consumed. At last ask, saying: The beggar’s, is what need? We are the Lords of need, and is no tongue to question: In the presence of the Merciful One, petitioning is what need? If intention be Thine against our life, there is no need of pretence: When the chattels are Thine, of plunder, is what need? The cup, world-displaying is the luminous mind of the Friend: Then, of the revealing of my own necessity is what need? Past is that time when I used to bear the burden of favor of the Sailor: When the jewel appeared, of the Ocean is what need? O beggar-lover! when the soul-giving lip of the Beloved Knoweth thee, petitioning for an allowance is what need? O pretender! go: I have naught with thee: Dear friends are present. Of enemies is what need? Hafez! End thy verse: for skill itself becometh clear: Disputation and contention with the pretender is what need?

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(34) The chamber of vision of my eye is the dwelling of Thine: Show courtesy, and alight, for this house is the House of Thine. By the grace of mole and of down. Thou scratchedest the heart of Arefs: Wondrous, are the subtleties beneath the snare of the grain of Thine. O nightingale! glad of heart be, in union with the rose; For, in the sward, the amorous warbling all is thine. To Thy lip, entrust the remedy for our feeble heart. For exhilarating is the ruby-medicine, in the treasury of Thine. In body, unworthy of Thy service am I; But my soul, its essence is the dust of the threshold of Thine. Not that one am I to give my heart’s coin to every impudent one: Is the treasure door with the seal of Thine, and the mark of Thine. O horseman, excellent of work! what a magician indeed thou art, That an impetuous steed, like the sky, is obedient to the whip of thine. My place, what? When the sky, the juggler, staggereth At the sorceries that are in the store-house of pastime of Thine. Now, the melody of Thy assembly bringeth the sky to dancing; For, the verse of Hafez, sweet of speech, is the melody of Thine.

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(35) O admonisher! Go about thy own work: what is this tumult? From the hand, my heart hath fallen: what hath befallen thee? The connection with Him, which God out of naught hath created Is a subtlety which no created being hath solved. So long as His lip causeth me not to reach my desire, like the reed. In my ear, the counsel of the whole world is like wind. Independent of the eight abodes of Paradise is the beggar of Thy street: Free of both worlds is Thy bound captive. Although love’s intoxication hath received me; yet, By that intoxication, the foundation of own existence is prosperous. O heart! bewail not of the injustice of Thy beloved’s violence. For, the Beloved Hath thus advised thee: and this is justice. Hafez! Go; utter no tale; breathe no majestic verse, For I remember many a one of these wondrous conceits and magic verses.

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(36) Since thy tress-tip, into the power of the breeze, fell, My distraught heart, into two pieces on account of grief, fell. In the midst of the dark morning, is thy eye of sorcery: This is the degree, whereto this prescription, ineffective fell. That mole in the curve of thy tress knowest thou what it is? A dot of ink, that, in the curve of Jim fell. In the rose-bed of the garden of thy cheek, thy musky tress, What is it? A peacock, that, in the garden of delights, fell. O Friend of my soul! In desire of thy perfume, my heart, Behind the wind, as road-dust, fell. Like the dust, this dusty body cannot rise From the head of thy street since it severely fell. O thou of Isa breath! the shade of thy cypress on my body, Is the reflection of a soul, that, on the rotten bone, fell. In memory of Thy lip, that one, whose place is none save the Ka’ba, I saw that, a dweller, at the Tavern-door, him befell. O dear soul! With grief for thee, to Hafez heart-lost Is a great friendship that, in the ancient covenant, fell.

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(37) Come! For most unstable is the foundation of the Palace of Hope: Bring the cup; for the foundation of Life is on the wind. Beneath the azure vault, I am that slave of resolution, who Is free from whatever taketh color of attachment. What shall I tell thee? Last night, in the wine-tavern, completely intoxicated. Me, Jibrail of the invisible world gave tidings how glad, Saying: “O Falcon of lofty visions sitting on the Sidra tree “Not thy nest. is this corner full of woe. “From highest Heaven’s pinnacle, they utter a cry for thee: “In this snare-place, I know not what hath befallen thee.” Counsel, I proffer thee: take it to mind: bring it into action: For, from the Pir of Tarikat, I recollect this matter. Suffer not grief for the World: take not my counsel from thy mind: For, from a wayfarer, I recollect t his sweet saying: “Give contentment to that given; unloose the frown from thy forehead: “For, the door of choice is not open to me and thee.” From the world of unstable nature, seek hot uprightness of covenant: For, this old woman is the bride of a thousand Lovers. In the smile of the rose, is no trace of the covenant of fidelity: O nightingale-lover; beware; for it is the place of wail. O languid verse! wherefore bearest thou envy towards Hafez? God-given are the acceptance of the hear;: and the grace of speech

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(38) Without the sun of Thy cheek, light for my day, hath remained not And of my life, save the blackest night, aught hath remained not. At the time of farewell to Thee, from much weeping that I made, Far from Thy face! to my eye, light hath remained not. From my eye, Thy image departed; and said: “Alas, inhabited, this corner hath remained not.” Union with Thee kept death from my head: Now, from the fortune of separation from Thee, far, it hath remained not. Near is that moment when the watcher shall say: Far, from thy door! “That abandoned shattered one hath remained not.” For me, patience is the remedy for separation from Thee. But, How can one exercise patience when power hath remained not? In separation from Thee, if to my eye no water remained, Say: “Spill the blood of the liver; for excuse hath remained not.” Through grief and weeping, Hafez engaged not in laughter, To the grief-stricken one, desire for the feast, hath remained not.

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(39) Of the cypress and the pine, what need hath my garden? Our box-tree nurtured in the shade, is less than who? O beloved youth! What religion hast thou adopted, Wherein our blood is more lawful to thee than mother’s milk? Since, from afar, thou seest the picture of grief, drink wine: The diagnosis, we have made: certain is the cure. Forth from the threshold of the Pir of wine-sellers, why draw I my head? In this his head, is fortune; in this his door, tranquility. Love’s pain is but one tale-no more Wonderful this That from every one whom I hear, the tale is not repeated. Last night, He gave promise; and, in His head, had the wine: To-day, let us see what He saith; in His head is what. Shiraz and the water of Ruknabad, and the breeze of pleasant air, Them, contemn not; for they are the lustre of adornment of seven territories of the world. From the water of life of Khizr, whose place is the Land of Darkness, it is far Up to our water, whose fountain is Allah-u Akbar. We take not the honor of poverty and of contentment: To the king, speak saying: Daily victuals are destined. Hafez! how strange, the twig of candy is thy reed, Whose fruit is more heart-pleasing than honey and sugar.

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(40) Thanks be to God that the door of the wine-tavern open, is. In such a way that, my face of supplication upon its door is. Through intoxication, all in tumult and shout are the jars; And that wine that in that place true is, not illusory, is. From Him, intoxication, and tumult, and pride: all is. From us, helplessness, and weakness, and supplication all is. The mystery that to the people I uttered not, and shall not utter: To the Friend, I shall utter; for confidant of the mystery He is. The twist of the tress, curl within curl, the explanation One cannot shorten; for long this story is. The load of Majnun’s heart; and the curl of Laila’s tress The cheek Of Mahmud and the sole of the foot of Ayaz is. Like the hawk, I have stitched up my eye from all the world: Since, on Thy adorned cheek, my eye open is. Whoever entereth the Ka’ba of Thy street, ‘Through the Kibla of Thy eye-brow in the very act of prayer is. O people of the assembly! the consuming of the heart of poor Hafez Ask ye the candle that, in burning and melting is.

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(41) Though wine is joy exciting! and the breeze rose-enslaving, Drink not wine to the sound of the harp. For bold the Muhtaseb is. If to thy grasp fall a flagon and a Companion, Drink with reason; for the season, fraught with calamity is. Conceal the cup in the sleeve of the tattered garment; For, like the wine-flagon’s eye, time is blood-shedding. With the color of wine, we cleanse the religious garments with tears: For, the season of austerity, and the time of piety it is. From the revolution of the inverted sphere, seek no sweet pleasure. For all mixed with dregs the pure of this head of the wine jar is. The up-lifted sky! Is it not the sieve blood-splattering, Whose scattering, the head of Kasra and the crown of Parviz is? O Hafez! thou hast captivated Iraq and Persia. Come. For the turn of Baghdad, and the time of Tabriz is.

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(42) To utter to thee the state of my heart is my desire: To hear news of my heart is my desire. Behold the crude desire-how the well-known tale To conceal from the watchers is my desire. A night of power like this, precious and holy, To sleep with thee till day, is my desire. Alas! the unique pearl so tender To pierce in the dark night, is my desire. O breeze! to-night, give help: For, in the morning time, to blossom is my desire. For exaltation’s sake, with the point of the eye-lash To sweep the dust of the Path is my desire. In abhorrence of the claimants, like Hafez To utter profligate verse is my desire.

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(43) The court of the garden is joy-giving; and the society of friends, pleasant; Pleasant, be the time of the rose, whereby the time of wine-drinkers is pleasant. From the morning breeze, momently our soul’s perfume is pleasant. Yes, yes. The perfume of desire-possessing spirits is pleasant. The rose, veil unlifted prepared to depart: O nightingale bewail; for the plaint of heart-wounded ones is pleasant. To the night-singing bird, be the good news that, in Love’s path, To the Friend, the vigilant one, weeping at night is pleasant. In the world’s market, is no happy-heartiness. If there be, The way of profligacy and of happy-being of hypocrites is pleasant. From the tongue of the Lily, came to my ear this noble speech, “In the old cloister, the work of those light of burden is pleasant.” Hafez! Abandoning the world is the path of happy-heartiness. So long as thou thinkest not that the circumstance of World-Possessors is pleasant.

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(44) Now that in the palm of the rose, is the cup of pure wine, In it praise, is the nightingale with a hundred thousand tongues. Seek the book of verse and make way to the desert: What time is this for the College, and the argument of the Kashf-i-Kashshaf? Yesterday, the Head of the College was intoxicated; and gave decision, Saying: “Wine is unlawful, but better than the property of legacies.” No order is thine for the dregs, or for the pure: Drink happily; For, whatever our Said did is the essence of grace. Pluck up thy attachments to the people: take note of the work from the Anka; For, the clamour of those sitting in solitude is from Kaf to Kaf. The tale of claimants and the fancy of thy fellow-workers, Resemble the tale of the gold-stitcher and the mat-weaver. Hafez! silence: and these subtleties like red gold, Keep. For the false coiner of the city is the Banker.

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(45) At this time, a friend, who is free from defect, Is the goblet of pure wine, and the song-book. Go alone; for the highway of safety is narrow: Seize the cup; for dear life is without exchange. In the world, not I alone am distressed from being without work From learning without doing, is the grief of the learned. In this thoroughfare full of tumult, to reason’s eye, The World and the world’s work is without permanency and without place. Seize the tress of the one of moon face, and utter not the tale; For fortune and misfortune are the effects of Venus and of Saturn. Great hope of union with thee, had my heart. But, on life’s path, death is hope’s robber. At no time, will they find him sensible: For this reason, that Hafez is intoxicated with the cup of eternity without beginning.

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(46) The rose is in the bosom; wine in the hand; and the Beloved to my desire, On such a day, the world’s Sultan is my slave. Say: Into this assembly, bring ye no candle for to-night. In our assembly, the moon of the Friend’s face is full. In our order, the wine-cup is lawful; but, O Cypress, rose of body! without thy face, unlawful. My ear is all on the voice of the reed; and, the melody of the harp: My eye is all on Thy ruby lip, and on the circulation of the cup. In our assembly, mix not Perfume; for our soul, Every moment, receiveth perfume from the fragrance of the tip of Thy tress. Say ye naught of the sweetness of candy and sugar; For my desire is for Thy sweet lip. From the time when the treasure of grief for Thee was dweller in my ruined heart, The corner of the tavern is ever my abode. Of shame, why speakest thou? For from shame is my name: Of name, why askest thou? For from name is my shame. Wine-drinker, distraught of head, profligate, and glance-player I am: In this city, who is that one who is not like this? To the Muhtaseb, utter not my crime; for he also Is ever like me in desire of the drinkers of wine. Hafez! sit not a moment without wine, and the Beloved ‘Tis the season of the rose, and of the Jasmine, and of the celebration of fasting!

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(47) In the Street of the tavern, every holy traveler, that knew the Path The knocking at another door, the source of ruin knew. The diadem of profligacy, Time gave to none save to that one Who, exaltation of the world in this cup, knew. To the threshold of the tavern, whoever found a Path, The mysteries of the cloister from the bounty of the cup of wine knew. From the Saki’s line, whoever read the mystery of both worlds, The mysteries of Jamshid’s cup with the pictures of the road-dust knew. Seek not from us aught save the devotion of the distraught, For the being wise, a sin, the Shaikh of our religious order knew. From the eye of the Saki, my heart desired not safety for life; For the way of that Bold One, black of heart, my heart knew. From the violence of the constellation of nativity, my eye in the mornings So wept, that Nahid beheld, and the moon knew. The tale of Hafez and the cup which he secretly drinketh What room for the Muhtaseb and the watchman? The king knew. A king of lofty rank is that one who, the nine halls of the sky, The form of the curve of the arch of his court, knew.

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(48) From the wine’s sparkle, the Sufi knew the hidden mystery: Every one’s essence, by this ruby thou canst know. Only the bird of the morning knoweth the value of the rose bud: For, not every one that read a page, the meaning knew. To my work-stricken heart, I offered two worlds. Save love for Thee, the rest all effacement, it knew. Passed hath that time, when I thought of the people. Now since Of this my secret pleasure, the Muhtaseb knew. The Heart-Ravisher regarded not our ease, time’s business: If not, on our part, the heart-expectation, He knew. The stone and the clay, the ruby and the cornelian, maketh with auspicious glance Whoever the value of the breath of the breeze of Yaman knew. O thou that learnest Love’s verse from Reason’s book! I fear this subtlety by investigation, thou wilt not know. Bring wine! for of the rose of the world’s garden, boasteth not. He who, the robbery of the autumn-wind, knew. This versified jewel of verse that, from his mind, he evoked, Hafez The effect of the instruction of Asaf the second, knew.

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(49) The garden of lofty Paradise is the retreat of Darvishes: Grandeur’s source is the service of Darvishes. The treasure of retirement that hath the tilisms of wonders, Their revealing is in the mercy-glance of Darvishes. The palace of paradise, for the door guarding of which, Rizvan went Is only a spectacle-place of the sward of pleasure of Darvishes. By whose ray, the dull alloy becometh gold, that Is an alchemy that is in the society of Darvishes. Before whom the lofty Sun layeth his crown of glory, Is a glory that is in the grandeur of Darvishes. That great fortune, whereof is no grief through the torment of decay, Hear-ceremony aside, - is the fortune of Darvishes. The form of the object that the Kings of the world seek, Its reflection is the mirror of the appearance of Darvishes. From pole to pole, is the army of tyranny; but From eternity without beginning to eternity without end is the victory of Darvishes. O potent one! Boast not all this pomp: for thy Head and gold are in the keeping of the blessing of Darvishes. Karun’s treasure that, from the wrath, yet descendeth. That also, thou wilt have read, is from the wrath of Darvishes. I am the slave of the glance of the Asef of the age who Hath the form of mastership and of mind of Darvishes. Hafez! be here with respect. For sovereignty and country, All are from the service of the majesty of Darvishes.

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(50) In the snare of Thy tress, my heart entangled of itself is. Slay with a glance; for to it, punishment of itself is. If from Thy hand issue our heart’s desire, Be at hand: for goodness in place of itself is. O sweet idol! by Thy soul that like a candle, In dark nights my desire, effacement of myself is. O nightingale! when thou expressedest opinion of love, to thee, I said: “Do not; for that rose, self-going, for the sake of itself is.” The perfume of the rose is in no need of the musk of Chin and of Chigal: For, its pods of musk from the fastenings of the coat of itself is. Go not to the house of the Lords void of liberality of the age; For the corner of ease in the dwelling of one’s self is. Hafez consumed; and in the condition of love and of life staking, Yet, at the head of covenant and of fidelity of himself is.

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(51) The fresh ruby, thirsty for blood the ruby lip of the Beloved of mine is Yet for seeing Him, life-surrendering the work of mine is. Of that dark eye and long eyelash, shame be his, Who beheld His heart ravishingness; in reproach of mine is. O Camel-driver! to the door, take not my chattels. For that street-end Is a highway, where the lodging of the heart-possessor of mine is. I am the slave of my own fortune; for, in this scarcity of fidelity, Love for that intoxicated idol the purchaser of mine is. The platter of Perfume of rose, and its casket ambergris diffusing A little favor of the pleasant perfume of the Perfumer of mine is. O Gardener! drive me not away like the wind from the door of the garden; For the water of Thy rose-bed, like the pomegranate, with the tears of mine is. From my Friend’s lip, the draft of candy and of rose-water, ordered. His narcissus that the physician of the sick heart of mine is. I am the decoration of the ghazal, He who taught subtlety to Hafez, Sweet of speech, lustrous of talk, the Friend of mine is.

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(52) ‘Tis a time since the passion for idols was my faith: The pain of this work, the joy of the sorrowful heart of mine is. For beholding Thy ruby, the soul-seeing eye is necessary: where this rank for the world-seeing eye of mine is. Be my friend. For the day’s decoration and time’s advancement, From the moon-face of Thine and from the Pleiades-like tears of mine is. Since Thy love gave me instruction in speech-uttering, The practice of the people’s tongue, the praise and the glory of mine is. O God! keep for me the lot of poverty For this blessing, the cause of pomp and of power of mine is. O admonisher, ruler-recognizer! display no pride For the lodging of the Sultan, the wretched heart of mine is. O Lord! that Ka’ba of object is whose place of entertainment, The mighty thorn of whose Path, the rose and the wild rose of mine is. Hafez! utter not again the tale of the pomp of Parviz, Whose lip, the draft-drinker of the sweet Khosro of mine is.

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(53) Such a one am I that the tavern-corner is the cloister of mine: The prayer from the Pir of Moghan is the morning task of mine. Although the melody of the harp of the morning be not mine, what fear? At morning-time my cry is the excuse-utterer of mine. Of the king and of the beggar, I am free. Thank goodness! The beggar of the dust of the Friend’s door is king of mine! Through the tavern and the Masjed, my desire is union with Thee: Save this, no fancy have I. God is the witness of mine! Perchance, with death’s sword, I may up-pluck the tent. If not, Shunning the door of fortune is not the custom of mine. From that time when, on that threshold of Thine, I placed my face, The sun’s lofty throne was the pillow-place of mine. Hafez! though sin be not our choice, Strive in the way of manners; and say: “The sin is of mine.”

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(54) From weeping, the pupil of my eye seated in blood is, Behold the state of men in search of Thee, how it is. To the memory of Thy ruby and wine-like intoxicated eye, From griefs cup, the wine of that ruby that I drink, blood is. From the east of the head of the street, the sun of Thy countenance, If it rise, my fortune auspicious is. The tale of Shirin’s lip, Farhad’s talk is; The twist of Laila’s tress, Majnun’s dwelling is. Seek my heart. For thy stature, like the cypress is heart-seeking. Utter speech. For thy speech gracious and weighed is. O Saki! From the circulation of the cup, cause a little mercy to reach my soul: For, from the grief of the sphere’s revolution, the heart’s sorrow is. From that time when, from my grasp, went the precious musical chord, Like the river Jeyhun, my skirt’s border is. Gladsome, how may my sorrowful heart become By the power that beyond my power is? Through distraughtness, Hafez seeketh for the true Beloved: Like ‘an indigent one, who a seeker of Qarun’s treasure is.

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(55) The curve of Thy tress is the snare of infidelity and of Faith: This matter is a little from His work-shop. Thy beauty is the miracle of beauty. But, The tale of Thy glance is clear magic. How can one take one’s life from Thy bold eye, That ever is in ambuscade with the bow? Be a hundred Afarin! on that dark eye, Which, in lover-slaying is the creator of magic. A wonderful science is the science of love’s form: For the seventh sky is the seventh land. Thou thinkest not that the evil-speaker departed, and took his life: His account is with the two noble recorders. Hafez! be not secure from the snare of His tress. That taketh the heart; and is now in fancy religion.

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(56) The heart is the chamber of love of His: The eye is the mirror-holder of the form of His. I, who incline not to the two worlds, My neck is beneath the burden of favor of His. Thou and the Tuba tree; and we and the form of the Beloved; Every one’s thought is to the limit of ambition of His. If I be soiled of skirt, what loss? For the whole world is the evidence of the innocence of His. I, who am in that holy place, where the breeze Is the screen-holder of the fold of the dignity of His. Passed the time of Majnun; and our turn it is: Every one, a space of five days is the term of His. The realm of being a lover; and the corner of joy, All I have is from the favor of the fortune of His. No fear, if me and my heart pass away The goal is in between the healthiness of His. Regard not his external poverty. For Hafez’s Heart is the treasury of the love of His.

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(57) This blackish one, all the sweetness of the world is with him. The fair eye, the laughing lip, the joyous heart is with Him. Although those sweet of mouth are Sovereigns, yet He is the Soleiman of the age; for the seal is with Him. He is fair of face, perfect in skill, pure of sin; Verily the spirit of the Pure Ones of the two worlds is with Him. The black mole that is on that wheat-hued face, The mystery of that grain, that became the highway robber of Adam, is with it. My heart-ravisher hath set out on a journey. O friends! for God’s sake, What shall I do with my wounded heart; for the medicine is with Him. With whom, can one discuss this matter, that that stoney-hearted One, Slew us; and the breath of Isa of Maryam is with Him. Hafez is of the believers. Hold him dear. For the forgiveness of many a noble soul is with Him.

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(58) The head of our desire, and the threshold of the Mighty Friend: For, whatever passeth over our head is His will. My Friend’s equal, I have not seen; although of the moon and of the shining sun, The mirrors opposite to the Friend’s face I placed. Of our straitened heart, giveth the breeze what news, That, like the folding of the leaves of the rosebud, tightly folded it is. Not alone, am I a wine-drinker of this cloister, profligate consuming: O many a head in this workshop is the dust of the pitcher! Verily, Thou combedest Thy tress, ambergris-scattering, Since that the breeze became like civet; and the dust, beperfumed with ambergris. The sprinkling of Thy face, every rose-leaf that is in the sward: The ransom of Thy lofty form, every cypress that is on the river-bank. In the description of His Love, the tongue of speech is dumb: What room for the reed, split of tongue, folly uttering? Thy face came into my heart: my desire I shall gain: For, after the happy omen, is the happy state. Not, at this time, is Hafez’s heart in the fire of search: For, the bereaved Eternity is like the self-growing wild tulip.

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(59) Of a great favor from the threshold of the Friend, hope mine is; A great sin I have done; of His pardon hope mine, is. I know that He will pass by my sin; for Although, angel-looking He is, of angel-nature, He is. To such a degree, I wept that every one who passed, When he beheld running the pearl of our tears, spake saying: “This stream what is? That mouth, no trace whereof I see, is naught: That waist is only a hair; and I know not what that hair is. At the picture of Thy form, I wonder saying: How goeth it not From my eye, whose work, momently, washing and washing is. Speechless, Thy tress draweth my heart: Against Thy heart-alluring tress, the way of speech whose is? A lifetime it is since we perceived the perfume of Thy tress Yet in the perfume-place of my heart, the perfume of that perfume is. Hafez! bad is thy distraught state; but, Good, to the memory of the Friend’s tress thy distraught state is.

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(60) That envoy, who arrived from the country of the Friend; And brought the amulet of life from the dark writing of the Friend. Pleasantly, giveth trace of the Friend’s grandeur and grace: Pleasantly, maketh mention of the glory and the greatness of the Friend. For his glad tidings, I gave him my heart; and, I bear shame Of this little wealth of my heart wherewith I bescattered the Friend. Thanks to God that, by the aid of concordant Fortune, All my work is to the desire of the Friend. Of the Sphere’s procession and of the Moon’s revolution, what power? I progression, they were by the power of the Friend. If calamity’s Wind dash together the two worlds, We, and the light ot the eye, and the path of expectation of the Friend. O morning breeze! Bring me the bejewelled kuhl, From that happy dust that was the thoroughfare of the Friend. F If in design of Hafez, the enemy speak-what fear? Thanks to God that I am not ashamed of the Friend.

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(61) O Breeze! If thy path should chance by the Land of the Friend. Bring a fragrant waft of air from the beperfumed tress of the Friend. By this soul that, in thanks, I will surrender my Life If thou bring to me a message from the Friend. And, if, even so, in that Presence, no access be thine Bring a little dust for my eye from the door of the Friend. I, The beggar, where? The longing desire for union with Him, where? alas! Perchance, in sleep, I may behold the form of the aspect of the Friend. My pine cone-like heart is trembling like the willow, In envy of the form and the pine-like stature of the Friend. Although, the Friend purchase us not for even a small thing, For a whole world, we sell not a single hair from the head of the Friend. If his heart be free from the bond of grief, what then? When poor Hafez is the slave and servant of the Friend.

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(62) Welcome! O Messenger of the Longing Ones, give the message of the Friend. That, with the essence of pleasure, I may make my soul a sacrifice for the Friend. Wailing and lamenting perpetually is like the nightingale in the cage: Of parrot-nature am I through love of sugar and of the almond of the Friend. His tress is the snare; the grain of that snare, his mole; and I, In hope of that grain, have fallen into the snare of the Friend. Till the morning of the day of assembling, through intoxication, raiseth not his hand. Whoever, in Eternity without beginning, drinketh like me a draught from the cup of the Friend. A little by way of explanation of my own desire, I uttered not on that account It is head-pain to show more than this importunity to the Friend. Into my eye, I put as collyrium, if it be gained, The dust of the precious path that becometh honored by the footstep of the Friend. My inclination, towards Union; and His towards separation: I abandoned my own desire that there might issue the desire of the Friend. Hafez! In grief for Him, continue to consume; remediless, be content. On that account, that no remedy hath the restless pain of the Friend.

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(63) Thy face, none hath seen; and a thousand watchers are Thine, Still in the rosebud, Thine many a nightingale is. Not so strange is it if to Thy street came I, since in this country many a stranger is. In love, the cloister and the tavern are not different: Wherever, they are, the ray of the true Beloved’s face is. There, where they give splendor to the work of the cloister, The bell of the Christian monk’s cloister associated with the name of the cross is. Lover, who became, at whose state the true Beloved gazed not? O Sir! there is no pain. Otherwise, the Physician is. In short, all this lament of Hafez is not in vain: Both a strange story and a wonderful tale, it is.

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(64) Since the presentation of skill before the Beloved disrespect, is The tongue, silent; yet, the mouth full of Arabia is. The Pan concealed her face; and the Div engaged in the glance of beauty. Through amazement, Reason consumed, saying: “What Father of Wonders this is!” In this parterre, none plucked the rose without the thorn. So the lamp of Mustafa with the flames of Abu Lahab is. The reason, ask not why the cherisher of the mean, became the sphere, Whose design of giving, pretence without reason is. For half a barley-corn, I purchase not the arch of the monastery and of the inn: Because for me, the tavern is the palace; and the foot of the jar, the pavilion is. The beauty of the Daughter of the grape is the light of our eye. Perchance, In the veil of glass, and in the screen of the grape, it is. A thousand of wisdom and science had I my Lord Now intoxicated and wasted, the better impolite is. Bring wine; for, as Hafez, the asking God for aid always In weeping in the morning-time, and in supplication at midnight is.

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(65) More pleasant than the pleasure and the enjoyment of the garden and the spring is what? Where is the Said? Say: “The cause of our waiting is what?” Every pleasant moment that appeareth, reckon plunder; Delay is to none. For the end of work is what? The fetter of life is bound by a single hair: keep sense: Be thy own grief-devourer. Time’s grief is what? The meaning of the Water-of-Life and the garden of Iram Save the bank of the rivulet and the wine pleasant-tasting is what? The austere one and the intoxicated one both are of one family: To whose glance, shall we give our heart? choice is what? The secret within the screen, what knoweth the silent sky? O pretender! thy contention with the screen-holder is what? If the esteeming rightly the forgetfulness and the negligence of the slave be not His, The meaning of the Omnipotent’s pardon and mercy is what? The Zahed desired the wine of Kousar; and Hafez, the cup: Let us see between these two, the choice of the Omnipotent is what?

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(66) O nightingale! bewail if, the desire of being a lover with me, thine is. For, we two are, weeping lovers; and our work, weeping is. In that land where bloweth the fragrant breeze from the Beloved’s tress, For boasting of the musk-pods of Tatar, what room is. Bring the wine, wherewith we may becolour the garment of hypocrisy; For, we are intoxicated with the cup of pride; and the name of sensibleness is. To devise the fancy for Thy tress, is not the work of immature ones: To go beneath the chain, the way of a bold one is. Wherefrom love ariseth, is a hidden subtlety, Whose name neither the ruby lip, nor the auburn hair is. The person’s beauty is not the eye, nor the tress, nor the cheek, nor the mole; In this matter many a thousand subtlety, heart-possessing is. For half a barleycorn Kalandars of the Path purchase not, The satin coat of that one who void of skill is. To Thy threshold, one can reach only with difficulty. Yes: With difficulty, the ascent to the sky of joyousness is. In the morning, in a dream, I beheld the glance of union with Him: Oh excellent! when the stage of sleeping better than the waking is. Hafez! vex not His heart with weeping, and conclude: For, in little injuring, everlasting safety is.

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(67) O Lord! that candle, night-illuminating, from the house of whom is? Our soul hath consumed. Ask ye, saying: “She, the beloved, of whom is?” Now, the up-setter of my heart and of my religion, she is: Let us see: she the fellow-sleeper of whom is; the fellow-lodger of whom is: The ruby-wine of her lip, from my lip, far be it not! The wine of the soul of whom is? The cup-giver of the cup of whom is? The Fortune of the society of that candle of happy ray, ‘ Again, for God’s sake, ask ye saying: “For the moth of whom is?” For her, every one deviseth a great spell. Yet known it is not, Her tender heart, inclined to the tale of whom is? O Lord! that one, king-like, moon of face, Venus of forehead, The inestimable pearl of whom; and, the incomparable jewel of whom is? I said “Without thee, sigh from the distraught heart of Hafez:” Under the lip, laughing, she spake, saying: He distraught of whom is?”

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(68) From the city, my moon went this week; to my eye a year it is: The state of separation what knowest thou how difficult the state is? From the grace of her cheek, in her cheek, the pupil of my eye Beheld its own reflection; and imagined that a musky mole it is. Milk yet droppeth from her lip like sugar, Although, in glancing, her every eyelash a slaughterer is. O thou that art in the city the pointing-stock for generosity, Alas! in the work of strangers, wonderful thy negligence is. After this, no doubt is mine in respect of the incomparable jewel; For, on that point, thy mouth a sweet proof is. Glad tidings, they gave that thou wilt pass by us Change not thy good resolve; for a happy omen it is. By what art, doth the mountain of grief of separation draw Shattered Hafez, who, through the weeping of his body, like a reed is.

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(69) Who is not fallen into that doubled tress is none; In whose path is it, that a snare of calamity is none? Perchance, thy face is the mirror of divine light: O God! that thus it is; and, in this, dissimulation and hypocrisy is none. The Zahed giveth me repentance of thy face. O Excellent face! His, any shame of God; and shame of thy face is none. For God’s sake, adorn not thy tress; for ours, Is no night when, with the morning wind, many a conflict is none. O candle, heart-kindling! com bake; for, without Thy face, At the banquet of companions, the effect of light and of purity is none. The consoling of travellers is the cause of excellent mention; O soul! in your city, this rule is none. Last night, He went; and I said: “O idol! fulfill Thy covenant:” He said: “O Khwaja! thou art in error: fidelity in this covenant is none. I, Since from the corner-sitters Thy eye ravished my heart: To be thy train, a sin on our part is none. If the Pir of the magians become my Murshid what difference? There is no head, in which a mystery of God is none. Against the, to speak saying: “I am the fountain of light.” Worthy Suha, the great ones know is none. In the cloister of the Zahed; and in the chamber of the Sufi Save the corner of Thy eye-brow, the arch of prayer is none.

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(70) A gazer, save upon Thy face, the pupil of our eye is not. A remembrancer save of Thee, our overturned heart is not. My tear bindeth the Ihram of the Tawaf of Thy sacred enclosure. Although pure blood of the blood of my wounded heart, it is not. Be bound in the snare of the cage like the wild bird If, flying in search of Thee, the bird of Sidrah is not. If the poor lover scattered the counterfeit coin of his heart, Censure him not, for potent as to current coin he is not. In the end, to that lofty cypress, reacheth the hand of him, Whose spirit in search of Thee, defective is not. Before Thee, I boast not of Isa’s life-giving; For like Thy lip, in soul-refreshing, expert he is not. I who, in passion’s fire for Thee, express no sigh, How can one say: “As to the stains of my heart, patient He is not.” The first day, when I beheld Thy tress-tip I spake, Saying: “End to this chain’s confusion is not.” The desire of union with Thee alone, to Hafez’s heart is not: Who is he in whose heart desire of union with Thee is not?

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(71) The Zahed, outward worshipper! Of our state, knowledge is none. In respect of us, whatever he saith, room for abhorrence is none. In Tarikat, whatever befalleth the holy Traveler is his welfare: O heart! In the straight highway, road lost is none. That we may see how the game turneth, a pawn, I will move. The power of Shah to the chess-board of profligates is none. What is this lofty roof, smooth, with many pictures? In the world, acquainted with this mystery, Sage there is none. O Lord! Who is this independent One? What is this powerful creed? For this is all internal wound; but power of sigh is none. Thou mayst say: “The Lord of the Secretariat knoweth not the account: For, in this imperial signature, trace of “Hasbatanu-li-llah” is none. Whoever wisheth, say: “Come:” Whoever wisheth, say: “Speak:” In this Court is neither arrogance nor haughtiness; chamberlain, or door-keeper, is none. To go to the Tavern-door is the work of those of one color: For the Self-sellers, path. into the street of the Wine-Sellers, “is none.” Whatever unfitness there is, is by reason of our unfit, formless form: If not, on a person’s stature, thy dress of honor, short is none. I am the slave of the Pir of the tavern, whose favor is constant: If not, the favor of the Shaikh and of the Zahed, is sometimes; and, sometimes is none. If, through lofty spirit, Hafez sit not on the chief seat, The Lover, dregs of wine drinking, in the bond of property and of rank is none.

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(72) Love’s path is Path whereof the shore is none: And there, unless they surrender their soul, remedy is none. Every moment that to love thou givest thy heart is a happy moment, In the right work, need of praying to God to be directed aright is none. With reason’s prohibition, affright us not; and bring wine: In our Land, the work of the watchman, work is none. Ask thou thy own eye “Who draweth us?” O soul! the sin of fortune and the crime of the star is none. Him, one can see with the pure eye like the crescent moon: The place of splendor of that moon-fragment, every eye is not. Reckon as plunder the path of profligacy. For this track, Like the path to the treasure, evident to every one is not. In no way, Hafez’s weeping affected thee Astonishment mine at that heart, which less hard than the stone is not.

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(73) From the ray of Thy face, luminous a glance is not. that is not: The favor of the dust of Thy door, on an eye is not, that is not. Those possessed of sight, are the spectator of Thy face. Yes: The desire of Thy tress, in any, a desire is not, that is not. If through my grief for Thee, my tear issue red, what wonder? Ashamed of that done by himself, a screen-holder is not that is not. So that on Thy skirt, a little dust may not settle, The torrent of tears from my vision, a great pathway is not that is not. So that, everywhere, it may not boast of the evening of Thy tress-tip, Conversation with the breeze, mine a morning is nor that is not. On me, wherefore bindest thou the girdle of malice, when of love On the waist of my heart and soul, a girdle is not, that is not. O sweet fountain! from the modesty of Thy sweet lip, Now, steeped in water and sweat, a piece of sugar is not, that is not. No good counsel is it that the mystery should fall out of the screen. And, if not, in the assembly of profligates, a piece of news is not that is not. In the desert of love for Thee, the lion becometh the fox: Alas, this Path! wherein a danger is not that is not. The water of my eye, whereon is the favor of the dust of Thy door Under a hundred favors of His. the dust of a door is not that is not. From the head of Thy street, I cannot go a step: And, if not, in the heart of the heart-bereft, a journey is not that is not. Save this subtlety that Hafez is not pleased with thee, Wholly, in thy existence, a skill is not, that is not.

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(74) The produce of the workshop of existence and dwelling all this is naught; Bring wine. For the goods of the world all this is naught. The desire of the heart and of the exalted soul is the society of the Beloved: All that is; and, if not, heart and soul, all this is naught. For the sake of shade, endure not the favor of the Sidra and the Tuba tree For, O moving cypress, when well thou lookest, all this is naught. Fortune is that which, without the heart’s blood, cometh to the bosom: And, if not, the garden of the Beloved with effort and toil all this is naught. A space of five days that thou hast in this stage of favor; Rest pleasantly awhile. For Time all this is naught. O Saki! We are waiting on the shore of the ocean of death Regard again. For from lip to mouth all this is naught. Zahed! beware; be not secure of the sport of pride For the path from the cloister to the temple of the Magians, all this is naught. Wailing and weeping have consumed me sorrowful: The need of narrating and of explaining apparently all this is naught. The name of Hafez accepted the writing of honor; But, in the opinion of profligates, the writing of profit and of loss all this is naught.

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(75)

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(76) Save Thy threshold, my shelter in the world is none. Save this door, my fortress-place is none. When the enemy draweth the sword, we cast the shield: For save weeping and wailing, our sword is none: From the tavern-street, why turn I away my face? For better than this, in the world, my way and path is none. If, into the harvest of my life, Time cast fire, Say: “Consume; for, equal to a little blade of grass, in my opinion, it is none.” I am the slave of the saucy eye of that straight stature, From whose wine of pride, at any one, glance is none. Be not in the pursuit of injury: do whatever thou desirest: For in our Shariat, save this, a sin is none. O King of the dominion of beauty! go rein drawn: For at the head of a street, is it not a justice-seeker is none? Thus it is, that, in every direction, I behold the snare of the Path: Save the shelter of His tress, my shelter is none. To the tress and the mole give not the treasure of the heart of Hafez; For deeds like these, the power of every black one is none.

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(77) A nightingale had a rose-leaf, pleasant of hue in his beak, And, on that leaf and pleasant food, bitter lamentation held. To him, I said: “In the very time of union wherefore is this lament and cry?” He said: “In this work of lament, me the beloved’s beauty held.” If the true Beloved sate not with us beggars, room for complaint is none; King, prosperous was He; shame of beggars, He held. Our supplication and entreaty affect not the Friend possessed of beauty, Happy he, who from beloved ones, the fortune of prosperity held. Arise! so that on the reed of that Painter, we may scatter our soul; For, all this wonderful picture, in the revolution of His compass, Lie held. If thou be a disciple of love’s Path, defame not: Pawned at the vintner’s house, his religious garment Shaikh San’an held. Happy, the time of that gentle Kalandar who, in the paths of wandering, Mention of the rosary of the King, in the girdle of the Zunnar, held. Below the roof of the palace of that beloved of Hun-nature, the eye of Hafez The way of paradise, beneath which streams are flowing, held.

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(78) Thou sawest that, save the desire of violence and of tyranny, my beloved aught had not. He shattered the covenant; and, on account of our grief, grief had not. O Lord! take him not. Although my heart, like the pigeon, He cast down and slew; and respect for the prey of the sacred enclosure had not. Against me, on account of my fortune, came this violence. If not the Beloved, Save the way of courtesy and the path of liberality, aught had not. With ail this, every one who endured from Him no contempt, Everywhere he went, him honored any one had not. Saki! bring wine; say to the Muhtaseb: “Deny us not. For such a cup Jamshid had not.” Every way-farer who took not the path to the sacred enclosure of His door, Unhappy, traveled the valley; yet, the path to the sacred enclosure had not. Hafez! do thou take the ball of eloquence. For the claimant, His was no skill at all; and any information, he had not.

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(79) Now, that the fragrant breeze of Paradise bloweth from the rose garden. I and the wine, joy-giving and the Beloved angel. To-day, why boasteth not the beggar of empire? For his pavilion is the Cloud’s shade; and his banquet place, the field’s border. The sward uttereth the tale of the April: No Aref is he, who purchased a loan; and let go cash. With wine make the building of the heart. For this evil world Is bent on that it may make a brick of our dust. From the enemy, seek not fidelity. For, a feeble ray it giveth not, When thou kindlest the candle of the cloister from the lamp of the church. For recorded blackness, reproach not me intoxicated: Who knoweth what Fate hath written on his head? From the bier of Hafez, keep not back thy foot: For though he be immersed in sin, he goeth to paradise.

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(80) O Zahed, pure of nature! censure not the profligates; For, against thee, they will not record another’s crime. If I be good, or if I be bad. Go thou: be thyself: In the end, every one reapeth that work that he sowed. Every one, whether sensible or insensible, is the seeker of the Beloved: Every place, whether the Masjed or the church, is the house of love. My head of submission and the brick of the Tavern-door: If the complainant understand not this speech, say: Thy head and brick. Of the former kindness in eternity without beginning, make me not hopeless: What knowest thou, behind the screen who is good, who is bad? From the cell of piety, not only I fell out: My father also let go from his hand Paradise of Eternity without end. O Hafez! If, on the day of death, thou bring a cup. Immediately, they will take thee from the street of the tavern to Paradise.

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(81) At dawn, the bird of the sward spake to the rose: “Display less disdain; for, in this garden many a one like thee hath blossomed.” The rose laughed saying: “We grieve not at the truth; but “No lover spoke a harsh word to the beloved.” If thou desire ruby wine from that begemmed cup, O many the pearl that it is necessary for thee to pierce with the point of thy eyelash. To eternity without end, the perfume of love reacheth not the perfume place of him Who, with his face, swept not the dust of the door of the tavern. Last night, in the Paradise, when from the bounty of the air, The tress of the hyacinth was disturbed by the morning breeze, I said: “O throne of Jamshid! thy cup world-displaying, where?” It said: “Alas! wakeful fortune slept.” Not that which cometh to the tongue is the talk of love: O Saki! give wine; make short this uttering and hearing. Into the sea, the tear of Hafez hath cast wisdom and patience: What shall he do? The consuming of love’s grief, he cannot conceal.

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(82) That Bold One of Angel-face who, last night, by me passed, What sin saw He that, by way of sin, He passed? Since from my sight, went that world-seeing eye, None knoweth what tears from my eye have passed. Last night from the passing of the heart s fire to the candle passed not That smoke that, to our head, from the liver’s consuming passed. Far from His face, momently, from the fountain of my eye, A torrent of tears came; and the deluge of calamity passed. From our feet, we fell when separation’s grief came: In grief we remained when from the hand, the remedy passed. The heart said: “With prayer, one can again obtain union with Him.” ‘Tis a life-time since my life all in the work of prayer passed. Wherefore do I bind on the pilgrim-robe, for that Ka’ba is not here? In effort, wherefore do I strive since from Ka’ba, he hath passed? Yesterday, with the essence of the pity, when he beheld me, the physician said: “Alas! beyond the rules of cure, thy grief hath passed.” O friend! for asking Hafez plant thy foot Before that time when they shall speak saying,: “From the frail house he hath passed.”

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(83) If from the hand of Thy musky tress, a fault passed, it passed: And, if against us from Thy dark mole, an act of tyranny passed, it passed. If, the harvest of one wool-clad, Love’s lightning consumed, it consumed: If, against a beggar, the violence of the prosperous king passed, it passed. In Tarikat, is no grief of heart. Bring wine: Every impurity that thou seest, when, purity passed, it passed. O heart! keep firm of foot. For love-playing, endurance is necessary: If a vexatious matter was, it was; if a tyrannous matter passed, it passed. If, from the Heart-possessor’s glance, a load a heart bore, it bore: Between the soul and the true Beloved a matter passed, it passed. From carpers, reproaches appear; but, If, among fellow-sitters, aught unfit passed, it passed. O admonisher! say: “Censure not Hafez who hath gone from the cloister.” How bindest thou the foot of a free one? If to a place he passed, he passed.

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(84) O Saki! bring wine; for the fasting month hath passed. Give the goblet; for the season of name and fame hath passed. Dear time hath passed. Come; let us repeat the omitted prayers Of a long life that without the presence of a goglet and of the cup hath passed Make me intoxicated even so that from selflessness I shall not know, In the plain of imagination, who hath come, who hath passed. In the smell that a draught of Thy cup may reach us, In the inn, every morning and evening, prayer to Thee hath passed. To the heart that was dead, a great life reached the soul, Since into its perfume-place a perfume, from Thy breeze, hath passed. The Zahed had pride; took not the path to safety: By the path of supplication, the Profligate to the House of Safety hath passed. The cash of the heart that was mine became expended in wine: It was counterfeit coin. Therefore into the unlawful it hath passed. Like aloe-wood, how long can one consume in the torment of repentance? Give wine. For life in the essence of raw madness hath passed. Again counsel not Hafez; for the path of austerity, found not, A lost one, to whose palate the sweet wine hath passed.

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(85) From His lip of ruby, a draft we tasted not; and He departed: His face, moon of form, we beheld not to our fill; and He departed. Thou mayst say: “By our society, He hath become greatly straitened.” His chattels, He bound up: about him, we arrived not, and He departed. Many the Fatiha and the Harz-i-Yamani that we recited: After that, we murmured the wholeheartedness, and He departed. A glance, He gave saying: “From the street of desire, I depart not:” Thou sawest how, at last, we purchased the glance, and He departed. Proudly moving, He went into the sward of beauty and of grace. But, In the rose garden of union with Him, we moved not, and He departed. All night, weeping and wailing, we did like Hafez: For alas! for bidding Him farewell, we arrived not, and He departed.

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(86) Saki! come; for the true Beloved hath taken up the veil, The work of the lamp of the Khilvatis again kindled. That candle head uplifted again enkindled its face, And youth from his head, this Pir years endured took. The true Beloved gave that glance, such that piety departed from the path, And the Friend exercised that kindness, that the enemy caution took. From the sweet and heart-ravishing example, shelter: Thou mayst say “Thy mouth speech into sugar took.” The load of that great grief that had wounded our heart, God sent one of Isa-breath: up, he took. Every cypress-stature, that boasted beauty over the sun and the moon, When Thou camest, the pursuit of other work took. Full of clamour of this tale, are the seven vaults of the sky. Behold the short-sighted one who, the tale short, took! Hafez! from whom hast thou learned this prayer, that the beloved Made thy verse an amulet; and it, into gold, took.

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(87) By concord with darkish beauty, the world Thy beauty took. Yes; by concord, the world one can take. The revealing of the mysteries of the Khilvatis, the candle wished to make: Thanks to God! that its tongue, the heart’s desire kindled. From out of this concealed fire that is in my chest, A flame is the sun that the sky, kindled. The rose wished to boast of the color and the perfume of the Friend: In jealousy of it, its breath, in its mouth the breeze took. Rested apart, I was like the compass: At last, me, into the center, like a point, Time took. Desire of the cup of wine consumed my harvest that day, When, from the reflection of the Saki’s cheek, fire kindled. e To the street of the magians, I wish to go, shaking my sleeve, Of these calamities, that, the skirt of time’s end took. Drink wine. For, whoever, at the end of work, beheld the world, From grief, came forth light; and, the heavy cup of wine, took. With the blood of tulips, on the rose-leaf, they have written Saying: “Wine like the ruddy Arghavan that one, who became mature, took.” Hafez! like water, grace trickleth from thy verse: On it, nice distinction, the envious one how took?

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(88) I heard a pleasant speech that the old man of Kan’an uttered: “Separation from the true Beloved maketh not that which can be uttered.” The tale of terror of the resurrection day, which the city-admonisher uttered? Is a hint, which, of the time of separation, he uttered. Of whom, may I ask the trace of the Beloved, many a journey made? For whatever the wind’s messenger uttered, confusedly he uttered. Alas! that unkind moon, the Friend’s enemy, For the abandoning the society of his own lovers, how easily he uttered! After this I and the stage of contentment, and thanks to my rival: For accustomed to pain by thee, my heart hath become; and the abandonment of remedy uttered With wine of many years, repel ye the old grief: For, the seed of happy-heartedness is this. It, the Pir of the village uttered. Fix not a knot on the wind though, on thy object, it favorably blow, For to Soleiman this speech, as a proverb, the wind, uttered. For a frivolous excuse that the sky may give thee, go not from the Path Who told thee, that, the abandoning of tales, this old woman uttered. As to “how and why,” express no breath. For the happy slave Accepteth with soul every word that the Sultan uttered. From thought of thee, who said Hafez hath come back’? This, I have not said. He who uttered it, calumny uttered.

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(89) O Lord! devise a means, whereby in safety my Beloved May come back, and release me from the claw of reproach. Bring ye the dust of the Path of that traveled Beloved That I may make my world-seeing eye His sojourn-place. Justice! For, they have barred my Path on six sides That mole, beard, tress, face, cheek, and stature. To-day, when I am in thy hand, show a little mercy. To-morrow, when I become clay, what profit are tears of repentance? O thou that of love expressest breath in relating and explaining, With thee no word have we save this “Prosperity and safety be thine!” Darvish! Lament not of the sword of friends; For this band taketh the blood-price for the slain. Set fire to the religious garment; for the curve of the Saki’s eye-brow Shattereth the corner of the prayer-arch of the service of the Imam. God forbid that of thy violence and tyranny I should bewail: The injustice of dainty ones is all daintiness and goodness. The argument of thy tress-tip, Hafez shorteneth not: This chain is joined to the day of resurrection.

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(90) O lapwing of the east wind! to Saba, I send thee: Behold from where to where, I send thee! Alas! a bird like thee in the dust-heap of grief: Hence to the nest of fidelity, I send thee. In love’s Path, is no stage of nearness or of farness: I clearly see Thee; and prayer, I send Thee. Every morning and evening, the Kafila of prayer for Thy welfare, In company with the north and the east wind, I send Thee. So long as grief’s army ruineth not the heart’s country, Words and odes, with melody and modulation, I send thee. O Fellow-sitter of my heart! Thou that becomest hidden from sight, Prayer, I utter for Thee; praise, I send Thee. The creation of God, behold in thy own face; For the mirror, God-displaying, I send thee. Saki! come; for the invisible messenger uttered to me glad tidings, “In pain, exercise patience; for the remedy of union, I send Thee.” Hafez! the song of our assembly is the mention of thy welfare: Make haste. A horse and a coat, I send Thee.

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(91) O hidden from sight! to God, I entrust, thee. Thou consumedest my soul; yet with heart, friend I hold thee. So long as I trail not the skirt of my shroud beneath the foot of the dust, Believe not, I will keep hand from off the skirt of thee. Display the prayer-arch of thy eye-brow, that, in the morning-time, I may bring forth my hand of prayer and bring it upon the neck of thee. If it be necessary for me to go to Harut of Babil, A hundred kinds of sorcery I will evoke to bring thee. O faithless physician! I wish to die before thee. Ask the sick; for I am in expectation of thee. I weep; and, from this tear, torrent raining, my hope Is that love’s seed, I may plant in the heart of thee. Hafez! wine, and the mistress, and profligacy are not thy way of life: Wholly thou doest; and I pardon thee.

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(92)

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(93) What kindness it was when, suddenly, the dropping of thy pen Represented the obligations of our service according to the goodness of thee. To me, salutation thou hast written with the nib of the pen: Be not the work of Time’s house without the writing of thee! I say not in mistake, thou recollectedest me, heart bereft: For, in wisdom’s account, mistake lieth not in the pen of thee. Despicable, make me not in thanks for this favor That lasting Fortune, dear and honored, held thee. Come. For, by thy tress-tip, I will vow ‘That if my head goeth, I will not uplift it from the feet of thee. Of the state of us, thy heart may become acquainted; but at the time, When the tulip blossometh from the dust of those slain of grief for thee. With a draught, assist the soul of us thirsty When, from the cup, the limpid water of Khizr they give thee. O Isa-breeze! happy ever be all thy time For alive became the heart-broken soul of Hafez by the breath of Thee.

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(94) On account of that heart-cherishing beloved, thanks with complaint are mine: If thou be a subtlety-understander of love list well to this tale. Rewardless was and thankless every service that I rendered: O Lord! void of kindness let none be the served one. To profligates, thirsty of lip, none giveth a little water: Thou mayest say: “Those recognizing holy men have departed from this land.” O heart! In His tress-like noose, twist not; For, there, Thou seest severed heads, crimeless, guiltless. With a glance, Thy eye drank our blood; and Thou approvest: O Soul! lawful is not protection to the blood-shedder. In this dark night, lost to me became the path of my purpose: O Star of guidance! come forth from the corner. From every direction, where I went naught increased to me save terror. Beware of this desert, and of this endless Path. Of this Path, the end openeth no form For, in its beginning, are a hundred thousand stages more. Although, thou snatchedest my honor, I turn not my face from Thy door: More pleasant is violence from the Beloved, than from the enemy, courtesy. To thy complaint, love reacheth, if like Hafez Thou recite the Kuran with the fourteen traditions.

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(95) Ever intoxicated keepeth me the waft of air of the tress-curl of Thine. Momently ruined maketh me the deceit of the eye of sorcery of Thine. O Lord! after such patience, one can see a night Whereon, we may kindle the candle of our eye in the prayer-arch of the eye-brow of Thine. The black tablet of vision, I hold dear for the sake That to the soul, it is a book of the picture of the dark mole of Thine. If Thou wish perpetually to adorn the world altogether Tell the breeze that it should uplift awhile the veil from the face of Thine. And if Thou wish to cast out from the world the custom of effacement. Scatter that it may shed thousands of souls from every hair of Thine. Wretched, I and the morning breeze; two heads, revolving without profit: Intoxicated, I, from the sorcery of the eye of Thine; it, from the perfume of the tress of Thine. O excellent! the spirit that Hafez hath of this world and of the next world Naught cometh into his eye, save the dust of the head of the street of Thine.

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(96)

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(97)

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(98)

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(99) My heart, in desire of the face of Farrukh, Is in confusion like the hair of Farrukh. Save the Hindu of his tress, is none, That enjoyed prosperity from the face of Farrukh. The. black of good fortune is that which ever Is the fellow-traveller and the fellow knee-sitter of Farrukh. Like the trembling aspen, becometh the cypress of the garden, If it see the heart-alluring stature of Farrukh. O Saki! give wine of Arghavan hue To the memory of the eye of sorcery of Farrukh. Bent like a bow, became my stature From grief continuous as the eyebrow of Farrukh. The breeze of the musk of Tatar, ashamed made The perfume of the tress of ambergris of Farrukh. If to a place, be the inclination of any one’s heart, The inclination of my heart is towards of Farrukh. I am the slave of resolution of that one who is Like Hafez, the attendant of the black of Farrukh.

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(100) Yesterday, the Pir, the wine-seller whose mention be for good! Said: “Drink wine; and, from recollection, take the heart’s grief.” I said: “To the wind, wine giveth my name and fame:” He said: “Accept the word: be whatever be.” Since, from thy hand, will go profit and loss and capital, Say: “For this matter, neither noyous nor joyous be!” In thy hand is only wind, if thou place thy heart on any thing: In a meeting-place where to the wind, Soleiman’s throne goeth. Hafez! if thine be vexation on account of the counsel of the sages, Let us make short the tale, saying: “Long life be thine!”

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Hafez Ghazal 1