A SELECTION OF HAFIZ’S POETRY

Hafiz of Shiraz Page 1 of 20

 GHAZALS

GIVE WINE

Get up Winebringer, and give a cup from the bowl:

throw dust upon the head of this sad earthly role.

Set the cup of wine in the palm, so that from off

this chest I may pull that patched-up blue stole.

Although the wise may believe us to be infamous,

a good name and fame have never been our goal.

Give wine, for so much dust has the wind of pride

thrown on desire’s head, it is worthless as a hole.

The smoke from the sighs of my heart burning up,

consumed all those with ignorance as their goal.

The secret that is contained inside my mad heart

is not known by the high and low, not one soul.

With a Beloved so charming my heart is content,

who once from my heart the sweet quietude stole.

No one who has seen that silver-limbed cypress,

would look at the cypress of the field and knoll.

Hafiz, all day and night be patient in difficulties:

you may in the end one day get your heart’s goal.

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 THE WIND OF HARD LUCK

Soft breeze, to the graceful gazelle go gently and say:

"You sent us to mountains and deserts, sent us away."

Sweet seller of such sugar, whose life be always long,

why not ask about the parrot who needs sugar all day?

When you sit with the Beloved tasting the aged wine,
think of us lovers biting the wind of hard luck’s way.

Rose, perhaps pride in Your beauty stops Your heart

inquiring of the distressed nightingale, wailing away.

Kindness and real beauty catch men who see the truth,
not for deceit and cages will wise birds come to stay.

I don’t know why it is that such unfaithfulness exists

in cypress-straight, dark-eyed, moon-faced; I can’t say.

This much can be revealed, Your beauty is faultless,

but it’s a pity loyalty and devotion You don’t display.

Giving thanks to good fortune and company of friends,

think of lone wanderers who in plain and desert stray.

It’s no wonder that the poems of Hafiz should cause

the dancing of the Messiah, for Venus is singing today!

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 THE MORNING OF FORTUNE

The morning of Fortune dawns, where’s the cup like the sun?

When is a more appropriate moment? Give winecup, be

done!

A quiet house, the Winebringer friend and sweet subtle

singer:
time of joy, cup’s circulation and season of youth has begun.

For expanding soul’s nature and for beautifying joy’s jewel,

golden goblet is with melting ruby, a happy mixture’s done.

Sweetheart and singer clap waving hands, drunkards dance;

Winebringer glances sleep from eyes of each wine-loving
one.

A quiet seclusion, a pleasing place and mingling with friends:

who wins such a communion, a hundred doors open has
won.

Nature’s expert adorner, thinking of giving grace to the wine,

has happily in heart of the leaf of the rose, rosewater spun.

Since that Moon has with soul purchased the pearls of Hafiz,
to ear of Venus reaches sound of ribbed lute’s melodic run.

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 LAWFUL WINE

Rose inside, wine in hand, and Beloved to my wish is;

King of tile world is my slave on such a day as this is.

Tonight please don’t bring a candle into our gathering:

for tonight, on moon of Friend’s face full emphasis is.

In our belief the winecup is lawful; but, O my cypress,

rose of form, to be without Your face, this, amiss is.

In our gathering do not mix rose perfume: our soul

each moment inhales scent Your hair’s ambergris is.

My ear’s full of voice of reed and melody of the harp,

my eye upon Your ruby lip and circling cup’s bliss, is.

Don’t talk about the sweetness of sugar or of candy,

for my desire, that sweetness of Your lip to kiss, is.

Since treasure of grief for you filled my ruined heart,

corner of Winehouse, always now my house this is.

You tell me about shame? Shame gave me my name!

You ask about fame? Fame to me shame’s edifice is!

I am a winedrinker, head spinning, looking for love;

in this city, is there a one who also not like this is?

Don’t inform the censor of my error, because he too

like me, always desiring a drink of the wine’s bliss is.

Hafiz, never sit a moment without wine and Beloved;

season of rose, jasmine and of a celebration, this is.

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 WINE OF MANY COLOURS

A thousand hearts are captured by a single thread of hair;

path of thousands is blocked, a way out is no longer there.

So all can give up soul in hope of sweet smelling breeze,

You open musk pod then shut door when they come near.

I became frenzied by the Beloved’s forehead like the moon:

it revealed eyebrow and turned, then veiled a face so fair.

The Winebringer poured into cup a wine of many colour:

in this container see how many images were created, so
rare.

Lord, what magic the wine container does that blood sticks
to the neck, although it makes a sweet-glugging fill the air.

What sound was that the singer made in the centre of song
that he keeps shouting truth to all who might like to hear?

The Magician who knew that this world is a trick of Illusion,

folded up equipment, and kept silent about the whole affair.

Anyone who has never tried to love yet wants union, Hafiz,
would, without cleaning heart, the clothes of a pilgrim wear.

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 PARADISE

Now the rose breathes the breeze of the garden of Paradise,

together am I and wine of Joy, Beloved with Heavenly eyes.

Today, why shouldn’t the beggar be boasting of a kingdom;

the feasting table is breadth of creation, roof is milky skies.

Maker of Life explains with Spring the only truthful story:

he who ignores today’s beautiful glory, is tomorrow unwise.

With the wine of Love fill the heart beyond overflowing:

for this rotten world is nothing but dust, everything dies.

This enemy is unfaithful: so don’t try to get even a spark

from the hermit’s candle, lit by lamp of a church that dies.

Don’t criticise me for mistakes I’ve made due to ignorance:

do you know the pathways carved on my skull by the tides?

Don’t you walk away from this graveside of Hafiz, because,

although buried in mistakes, he is travelling to Paradise.

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 LOVE EVERY MOMENT

The Ocean of Love is a sea where a shore is not;

without soul’s surrender, remedy in store is not.

Bring wine; don’t frighten us with Reason’s laws;

in this place, that Judge’s punishable law is not.

Every moment you give to Love becomes happy:

in good deeds, need of help from counselor is not.

You ask Your own eye who has murdered us;

O Soul, blame on stars or on Fate’s door is not.

Your face like crescent moon only pure eyes see:

for all eyes, the new moon’s splendour, is not.

So take up the goods of the drunkard’s highway;

this treasure, mapped out for all to score is not.

In no way whatsoever do Hafiz’s tears move You;

I am amazed Your heart a hard stone core is not.

Hafiz of Shiraz Page 8 of 20

 AT YOUR FEET I DIE

My Monarch, You walk so well, head at Your feet: I die;

my Turk, You sway sweetly, before You, complete: I die.

You said: "When will you die before Me?" Why hurry?
You entreat O so sweetly, but before You repeat: I die.

I’m lover, drunk, exiled; where is Wine bringer’s form?

Sway Your fine fair form this way; when I see it: I die.

Should You, causing lifetime’s illness through separation,

enhance me one glance from eye’s dark grey seat: I die.

You said: "My ruby lip dispenses pain and sweet remedy."
Before pain came, and before Your remedy sweet: I die.

You sweetly sway: may the evil eyes never see Your face.
I find one thought in my mind: that at Your feet, I die.

Although Hafiz’s place isn’t Your Secret Place of Union,

all Your places please; before Your places replete: I die.

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 DIVINE WISDOM

Every one with insight, who for the heart content went,
to a corner of Winehouse from the house of intent went.

To the wayfarer with a half-filled cup, revealed mysteries

of beyond, that became in world of vision evident, went.

Come, hear Divine Wisdom from my lips; for in my words,

some profitable subtleties that the Holy Spirit sent, went.

From the star of my birth seek only a lover’s drunkenness;

because with the star of my birth, this same intent, went.

You rose up this morning because of the hand of another:

perhaps last night’s wine, that your memory spent, went.

Maybe the Physician, Jesus-breather, a miracle will work;

as long time, since a visit to me in my predicament, went.

A thousand thanks that last night from Winehouse corner,

Hafiz, to the corner of faith and prayer, obedient, went.

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 LONGING TO DIE

I laid my face on Your path but me You did not pass by;
I hoped for kindness, but no glance came from Your eye.

O Lord, protect that young heartless beauty from arrows

of that One’s lonely lovers: arrows caused by many a sigh.

Torrent of tears didn’t wash hardness from Your heart:

no impression on that stone was made by rain from sky.

I was longing to die at Your feet, wasting like the candle:

but like morning breeze You didn’t pass where I did lie.

O soul, what person is so stone-hearted and weak that he

didn’t make himself the shield against arrows You let fly?

Last night my lamenting didn’t allow fish or fowl sleep:

but see how that scornful One didn’t open even an eye.

Hafiz, your sweet song fascinates heart to such a degree,

that all who happen to hear want it in their hearts to lie.

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 CUP OF JOY

You never wrote explaining Yourself and it’s many a day:

where’s one I can trust to get to You a note without delay.

To the Highest Goal our desire can’t reach its destination,

unless You meet our effort with some help along the way.

From bottle to flagon is the wine and the rose is unveiled;

hold the cup of Joy, and drink until merry while you may.

Candy mixed with rose juice will not cure our sick heart;
give kisses mixed with straight talking, it’s better that way.

Fanatic, go from me in peace and secure your own safety:

if you stay with us drunkards you might end up that way.

Dangers of drinking you’ve preached, what of the wonders?

Skills of the blender don’t ignore because fools have a say.

O beggars of the Wineshop, the Owner is the True Friend;

don’t expect gifts from dumb animals; God is the only Way.

What great wisdom spoke the Master to drunkard friend:

‘‘Don’t reveal heart to an ignorant youth who can’t pay."

Hafiz burns away for the cheek that is lit up by the Sun:
give one dying of thirst a quenching and come what may.

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 DON’T WORRY

To grieve for a moment about all of creation is worthless:

sell it for wine, because our cloak of religion is worthless.

In Winemaker’s street they don’t give a cup for austerity:

what use is prayermat that for intoxication is worthless!

Wash this many coloured coat of deceit and worldliness;

red wine is one colour and coat’s colouration is worthless.

The crown’s majesty leads to pride that seduces the heart,

for to risk one’s life for its shaky situation is worthless.

When the ocean voyage began the treasure seemed close,

I was wrong: hundred pearls for raging ocean is worthless.

Don’t worry, be happy, content with your life’s treasure;

for land and sea to cause heart consternation is worthless.

It is best that you hide your face from too many hearts:
joy of taking world, for army of lamentation is worthless.

The Beloved’s direction is our only purpose and home,

any other than that blessed One’s location, is worthless.

Like Hafiz, don’t you worry, and let go the selfish world:
a ton of gold to buy miser’s consideration, is worthless.

Hafiz of Shiraz Page 13 of 20

 THE FOOL

Brothers, there was a heart that at one time mine was,

to which I told a problem, if it difficult to define was.

A heart that suffered with me, that offered good advice

to those of heart: a helping shelter true and benign was.

Whenever I was troubled by a calamity that came along,

it a friend and experienced worker, skilful and fine, was.

After the eye had led me along to fall in the whirlpool,

through heart’s aid my only hope of the shoreline was.

In the street of the Beloved it was suddenly lost by me:

O Lord, a place that seizes coats, that street Divine was!

From searching for it my tears, like pearls, trickled down;

but my trying to discover it again, just a useless line was.

There’s no effort that hasn’t danger of disappointment,

but has one been upset like me, who ready to resign was?

Have compassion for me in my hopeless drunkenness,

for at one time a skilful worker this heart of mine was.

When love was the teacher that inspired all of my words,

subtle highlight of every gathering my talk so fine was.

Never again mention: "Hafiz knows how to be subtle,"

for we’ve seen that he, of the fool’s obvious sign was.

Hafiz of Shiraz Page 14 of 20

 RUBA’IYAT

THE CUP’S LIP

Never, never separated your lip make from the cup’s lip;
so your desire from world, you take from the cup’s lip.
Since in the world’s cup sweet and bitter are combined,
take this from Beloved’s lip, that take from the cup’s lip.

A DROP OF BLOOD

You said this: "I’m yours and so have no more concern,

make the heart joyful, to patience give all your concern."
What heart? Where’s patience? That which You call heart
is only a drop of blood and there is so much for concern.

SUCH CRUELTY

For loving the Beloved’s face, against me don’t complain:

against those with hearts full of misery, don’t complain.
Sufi, since you have knowledge of the wayfarers’ ways,
against the drinking man, with cruelty don’t complain.

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 NEITHER: NOR

Neither the tale about that candle of Chigil one can tell,
nor condition of the heart, burning still, one can tell:
in my tired heart there is grief because there’s no friend
who about grief which the heart does fill, one can tell.

WITH GOLD

Those lovely ones of the world one can bait with gold,
because of them, happily one can’t enjoy fate with gold.
See the narcissus that possesses the crown of the world
how its head also bends, from being straight, with gold.

SOME CONSOLATION

A moon whose shape was straight like the tall cypress,

straightened her face while holding mirror in her caress.
When I offered her the handkerchief she then said this:
"You seek union? At least your imagination isn’t a mess!"

LION OF GOD

Loosener of knots and Awarder of heaven and of hell

don’t leave us, or from feet we’ll fall, You know well.
For how much longer will the wolves keep snatching?
Lion of God, show Your claws and the enemy dispel.

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 EXCEPT

Except Your image, nothing comes into that sight of ours,

except Your street, no other path holds delight of ours.
Although to all in Your time a sweet sleep does come,
God, I swear it never comes to eye, day or night, of ours.

FAR TOO QUICKLY

You, Your eye: deceit and sorcery keep raining from it:
hey, many swords, war’s weaponry, keep raining from it.
Too quickly You became wearied and upset with friends;
Your heart: stones that do injury, keep raining from it.

STRANGE!

Every friend who boasted about faith an enemy became:

every one with a spoiled garment, one of purity became.
They say: "Night is pregnant with the unknown." Strange!
Since she knew no man, how is it pregnant she became?

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 MASNAVI

THE WILD DEER

Hello, O wild deer of the desert, where are you?

Receiving most of my love and my care are you.

Two lone travellers, perplexed, a friendless pair;

wild beasts, whispered curses lurk here and there.

Come, so of each other’s condition we can enquire:

if we can, we will seek what the both of us desire.

For I can see that in this desert is only confusion,

having no oasis of joy, no happy green profusion.

Companions, who’ll be the companion to loners?

Explain, who will be the friend of the strangers?

Perhaps Khizer’s blessed footsteps will now arrive,

for from fortunate help great deeds come alive.

Perhaps time of generous Grace Divine has come,

for: "Leave me not alone," as my sign, has come.

Awhile ago a drunken lover who was on the way,

to wayfarer crossing a land did courteously say:

"O Wayfarer, what do you have in your bag there?

Come, if it is the grain, use it as bait for a snare."

He answered him by saying this: "I have the grain;

but the Simurgh is that Prey I desire to obtain."

The other said: "How will your hand find a trace,

for we haven’t found trace of It’s nesting place?"

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 Don’t hand away cup of wine and base of the rose,
be careful of Time, power-drunk; be on your toes!

When that straight cypress joins with that Caravan,

with cypress-branch, watching the path is the plan.

You departed, turning my happy disposition sad:

when did companion make companion feel so bad?

You struck the sword of separation so mercilessly,

one could say acquaintanceship has ceased to be.

How could my poor offerings be possibly accepted,

when wealthy sun from purse, its riches scattered?

The edge of the pooi of water and bank of estuary;

a dewdrop, then talk to oneself about a memory.

Remembering the departed, remembering friends,

be in sympathy with what the April cloud sends.

When the running water is weeping before you,

give it some help; the water of your eye pour too.

No courtesy at all did the old friend to me display:

O Muslims, Muslims, for God’s sake help today!

Over my head the water of separation has passed:

in this condition, courtesy is unfit to be grasped.

Perhaps auspicious feet of Khizer can help convey

these lonely forms to those forms long gone away.

Why do I try so hard to change my own destiny?

From the star of my Fate, why do I try to flee?

From now on I take path of the Friend’s street:

if I die in that Path, then my death I will greet.

The exiled strangers who hear of my condition,

will above my dust sit for awhile in meditation.

Hafiz of Shiraz Page 19 of 20

 Here, They scorch the wings of Gabriel with fire,
so that children who play with fire can admire.

Who has the power to speak, to say a word here?

O Lord, in this valley, is freedom’s sword here?

Go Hafiz, and stop filling space talking of this:

make your speech short, for God, knowing all is.

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