by Dick Davis
Since birds that have become aware
Of ropes and traps are hard to snare.
When you sit safely with your love,
Sipping your wine, be mindful of
Those struggling lovers who still stray,
Wind-tossed, upon their weary way.
I don’t know why she isn’t here,
Why her tall presence won’t appear,
Or why the full moon of her face,
And her black eyes, avoid this place.
No fault can be imputed to
Your beauty’s excellence, or you,
Except that there is not a trace
Of truth or kindness in your face.
When Hafez speaks, it’s no surprise
If Venus dances in the skies
And leads across the heavens’ expanse
Lord Jesus in the whirling dance.
WHERE IS THE NEWS WE’LL MEET, THAT FROM
This life to greet you there
I may arise?
I am a bird from paradise,
And from this world’s cruel snare
I will arise.
Now by my love for you, I swear
That if you summon me
To be your slave, from all existence
And its sovereignty
I will arise.
O Lord, make rain fall from Your cloud
Sent to us as a guide,
Send it before, like scattered dust
That’s wind-blown far and wide,
I will arise.
Sit by my dust with wine and music:
From my imprisonment
Beneath the ground, within my grave,
Dancing, drawn by your scent,
I will arise.
Rise now, my love, display your stature,
Your sweetness, and I’ll be,
Like Hafez, from the world itself
And from my soul set free…
I will arise.
And though I’m old, if you’ll embrace
Me tightly in your arms all night,
Then from your side, as dawn appears,
Young in the morning light,
I will arise.
MY LOVE’S FOR PRETTY FACES,
For heart-bewitching hair;
I’m crazy for good wine,
A languorous, drunk stare…
In love there’s no escaping
The burning of desire;
I stand here like a candle –
Don’t scare me with your fire.
I am a man from heaven,
But on this path I see
My love of youth and beauty
Have made a slave of me.
If Fate will help me, I
Will take myself elsewhere –
My bed will be swept clean
By some sweet houri’s hair.
Shiraz is like a mine
Of ruby lips, a store
Of loveliness…and I’m
A jeweler who’s dirt-poor.
I’ve seen so many drunk
Eyes in this town, I think
I’m drunk, although I swear
I’ve had no wine to drink.
You asked me to explain
Eternity for you –
Well certainly, when I
Have downed a drink or two.
Hafez, my nature’s like
A hopeful bride, but I
Lack mirrors to array
Myself – that’s why I sigh.
MY BODY’S DUST IS AS A VEIL
Spread out to hide
My soul – happy that moment when
It’s drawn aside!
To cage a songbird with so sweet
A voice is wrong –
I’ll fly to paradise’s garden
Where I belong.
But why I’ve come and whence I came
Is all unclear –
Alas, to know so little of
My being here!
How can I make my journey to
My heavenly home
When I’m confined and cramped within
This flesh and bone?
If my blood smells of longing, show no
Astonishment –
Mine is the musk deer’s pain as he
Secretes his scent.
Don’t think my golden shirt is like
A candle’s light –
The true flame burns beneath my shirt,
Hidden from sight.
Come, and ensure Hafez’s being
Will disappear –
Since You exist, no one will hear
Me say, “I’m here.”
THE MUSKY MORNING BREEZE
Will gently blow again,
Once more the old world will
Turn young and grow again;
White jasmine will take wine
From glowing Judas trees,
Narcissi fondly glance
At shy anemones;
Once more the banished, lovelorn
Nightingale will bring
His passion to the rose
And there sublimely sing;
And if I leave the mosque
For wine, don’t sneer at me –
Sermons are long, and time
Moves on incessantly.
My heart, if you postpone
Today’s enjoyment, who
Will guarantee the cash
Of happiness to you?
Drink before fasting, drink,
Don’t put your glass down yet –
Since Ramadan draws near
And pleasure’s sun must set.
How sweet the roses are!
Enjoy them now, for they
As quickly as they bloomed
Will fall and fade away.
We’re all friends here, my boy,
Sing love songs! Why should you
Sing yet again, “As that
Has gone, so this must too”?
You are why Hafez lives –
But now, within your heart,
Prepare to say farewell,
Since he too must depart.
IF THAT SHIRAZI TURK WOULD TAKE
My heart within his loving hand
I’d give for his dark mole the towns
Of Bokhara and Samarqand;
Come boy, and pour the wine’s last drops –
Since heaven’s courts will not provide
The gardens of our Mosalla
Or Roknabad’s green riverside.
Alas, these rowdy, sweet-voiced gypsies
Have ripped out patience from my heart,
Like Turks who make off with a feast’s
Leftovers when the guests depart.
My friend’s great beauty has no need
Of a defective love like mine -
A lovely face does not require
Cosmetic arts to make it shine.
Let’s talk of wine and music, not
Of Fate, and how the heavens revolve -
Theirs is a riddle no man’s wisdom
Has solved yet, or will ever solve.
Given the beauty Joseph had
I understood love could not fail
To tempt Zuleikha to discard
Her chastity’s enclosing veil.
You slandered me, and you spoke well –
May God forgive you what you said!
A bitter answer suits such lips,
So sugar-sweet and ruby-red.
But listen to advice, my dear -
Those who are young and fortunate
Prefer the wisdom of the old
To their own souls’ uncertain state.
Hafez, your poem’s written now,
The pearl you’ve pierced is poetry’s;
Sing sweetly – heaven grants your verse
The necklace of the Pleiades.
FLIRTATIOUS GAMES, AND YOUTH,
And wine like rubies glowing;
Convivial company,
And drink that’s always flowing;
A sweet-mouthed boy to serv
e
And sweet-voiced singers too,
An elegant, dear friend
Who’s seated next to you;
A kindly youngster whose
Delightful purity
Would stir the Fount of Youth
To angry jealousy –
A stealer of men’s hearts
Whose charm and loveliness
Would make the moon herself
Turn pale and envious;
A meeting place as though
Heaven’s high courts surround us,
With paradise’s roses
Profusely growing round us;
Kind-hearted friends to drink with,
Servants who act discreetly,
Companions who keep secrets,
Whom we can trust completely;
With wine as red as roses,
Astringent, light to sip,
Whose tale is garnets, rubies,
Kissed in a lover’s lip;
The server’s glance to be
A sword to plunder reason,
The lovers’ curls like snares
To trip hearts with their treason;
A wit like Hafez, all
Sweet-talk and repartee,
A patron like Qavam,
Whose generosity
Lights up the world…and may
The man who turns away
From pleasures such as these
Not know one happy day!
A BLACK MOLE GRACED HIS FACE; HE STRIPPED, AND SHONE
Incomparable in splendor as the moon;
He was so slim his heart was visible,
As if clear water sluiced a granite stone.
DESIRE’S DESTROYED MY LIFE; WHAT GIFTS HAVE I
Been given by the blindly turning sky?
And, such is my luck, everyone I said
“Dear friend” to loathed me by and by.
WHAT DOES LIFE GIVE ME IN THE END BUT SORROW?
What do love’s good and evil send but sorrow?
I’ve only seen one true companion – pain,
And I have known no faithful friend but sorrow.
EACH FRIEND TURNED OUT TO BE AN ENEMY,
Corruption rotted all their “purity”;
They say the night is pregnant with new times,
But since no men are here, how can that be?
WITH WINE BESIDE A GENTLY FLOWING BROOK – THIS IS BEST;
Withdrawn from sorrow in some quiet nook – this is best;
Our life is like a flower’s that blooms for ten short days,
Bright laughing lips, a friendly fresh-faced look – this is best.
Jahan Malek Khatun
For most of these long nights I stay awake
And go to bed as dawn begins to break;
I think that eyes that haven’t seen their friend
Might get some sleep then…this is a mistake.
HOW LONG WILL YOU BE LIKE
A cypress tree,
And lean your lovely head
Away from me?
Sorrow is all you’ve ever
Brought to me;
I will not ask how long
I am to be
The knocker on your door
You do not see,
The iron ring you pass
Obliviously.
My pillow’s made of absence –
While you are free
To taste another’s love,
Forgetting me.
If I could follow your
Curls’ scent I’d see
A way to let their night
Envelop me;
Since you have left me to
This misery,
Tears, and a heart on fire
Are all of me.
I don’t deserve you, but
I long to see
The sunlight of your face
Shine here, for me.
Although you’ve shown that you
Don’t care for me,
My soul still wishes you
Prosperity.
O GOD, I BEG YOU, OPEN WIDE
The gates of heaven
For one to whom a heavenly nature
Had been given;
Grant her a place in paradise,
And may the throngs
Of lovely houris welcome her
Where she belongs;
Keep far from her this world’s desires,
Its grief and spite;
Bestow your grace on her, and fill
Her soul with light.
EACH NEW FLOWER OPENING IN THE MORNING LIGHT,
Filling my heart with glory and delight…
Even before its perfume reaches me
Destruction’s wind has swept it from my sight.
MY HEART WILL TAKE NO DRUG TO DULL THIS PAIN,
The seal of Sorrow’s set, and will remain:
My heart could never tire of your sweet presence,
Absence is all my life can now contain.
I DIDN’T KNOW MY VALUE THEN, WHEN I
Was young, so long ago;
And now that I have played my part out here,
What is it that I know?
I know that, now that both of them have gone,
Life’s good and bad passed by
As quickly in my youth as dawn’s first breeze
Forsakes the morning sky.
How many ardent birds of longing then
Were lured down from the air
By my two ringlets’ curls and coils, to be
Held trapped and helpless there!
And in youth’s lovely orchard then I raised
My head as prettily,
As gracefully, above the greensward there,
As any cypress tree;
Until, with charming partners to oppose me,
I took up lovers’ chess,
And lost so many of love’s pieces to
My partners’ handsomeness –
And then how often on the spacious field
Of beauty I urged on
My hopeful heart’s untiring steed, always
Pursuing what was gone.
Now, as no shoots or leaves remain to me
From youth, and youth’s delight,
I fit myself in my old age to face
The darkness of the night.
HEART, IN HIS BEAUTY’S GARDEN, I –
Like nightingales – complain,
And of his roses now for me
Only the thorns remain;
My friends have gathered flowers, but I,
Because of all his harshness,
Can find no flowers to gather here
And search for them in vain.
My heart is filled with suffering;
And all my doctor says is,
“Sugar from him, and nothing else,
Will lessen your heart’s pain.”
I’ve filled the world with love for him,
So why do I receive
Such cruelty from my dearest love,
Again, and yet again?
My free will’s gone from me, so how
Can my poor ears accept
All the advice my clever tutor’s
Homilies contain?
No, in the pre-dawn darkness, I
Am like the nightingale
That in the orchards sings the rose
Its old love-sick refrain.
I hear it’s strangers whom you welcome,
Whom you make much of now;
Let me then be a stranger in
The kingdom where you reign.
IF YOU SHOULD KISS ME WITH
Your ruby lips, my dear,
I’d be your slave and wear
Your earring in my ear.
Who has such lovely eyes,
Or lips, or cheeks, as you?
Who has your hair, your neck,
Or your complexion? Who?
Who’s seen a moon wear such
A hat? And who is there
Who’s seen a cypress tree
Wr
apped in the cloak you wear?
O God, give me the rose
And not the thorns of love;
O God, don’t nip me with
Those lips I’m dreaming of.
I’m like a cooking pot
That’s placed upon love’s fire –
All day and night I seethe
And bubble with desire;
I’ve cried too much since you’ve
Been absent from my sight;
What do you know of all
That I endured last night?
Why have you hurt my heart
With grief, so callously?
And what’s made you forget
Your promises to me?
MY HEART IS TANGLED LIKE THICK CURLS
And no one hears me grieve;
In all the world I’ve no friend since
You said you had to leave.
What will become of this poor wretch
With no friend at her side,
With no one but her own despair
In whom she can confide?
Tell me about his eyes and heart –
Absence, give me his news,
Pour out the wine now, glass by glass;
Pour for me, don’t refuse.
Your leaving is a sword that’s pierced
My memory; ah, give
The balm of your return to me,
Quickly, and let me live.
You know your kindness, O my love,
And it alone will burn,
In all the world, my aching heart
For good and bad in turn.
O God, why have You made my back
Bow down beneath the weight
Of his long absence? Why have You
Reduced me to this state?
The stream that flows within this garden
Says to the cypress tree,
“May God forbid your shade should ever
Diminish over me!”
I didn’t start this love that makes
Me suffer so, and grieve;
These games of love were started first
When Adam sinned with Eve.
SWEET BREEZE RETURN TO ME, YOU BEAR
The scent of my belovèd’s hair.
I suffered while you were away;
You’ll bring the balm for my despair.
My doctors are so sick of all
My sicknesses; but I know where
The medicine lies – it’s in the scent
You’ll bring to me from his sweet hair.