Saturday, July 25, 2009
I swear it by that Koran which thou keepest in thy bosom.
Translation by: Edward Granville Browne
Died : 1390, Shiraz at the age of 69.
Poetry: Divan-e-Hafiz (500 ghazals, 42 Rubaiyees, and a few Ghaseedeh's)
I have said many a time..............
Rose petals let us scatter............
Ask not what sorrows for love ...........
O heart, the pain of love burned ..........
Solace to my soul, calmer of my heart’s cries.
Lovers cannot reach the hem of His shirt
Their shirt of patience, with shreds dignifies.
Let not your fate and lot, mishaps for you devise
In ravishing the hearts, you win the highest prize.
O preacher of creed, you forbid me this love
I forgive your errs, you have not seen the Wise.
Why would the Beloved, Hafiz criticize
Exceeding the bound, ardently denies
© Shahriar Shahriari,Los Angeles, CaA,pril 6, 1999
Though I move upon this path, another my path maintain.
Behind the veil parrot-like, I am trained and entertain
I repeat what the Master has taught me and had me retain.
If I am a thorn or rose, adorn the grass, it is vain
To think I can grow without the nurturing hand and rain.
O friends, do not think I am heartless and insane
In search of a connoisseur, I am a gem of unique grain.
Though wine with my colorful robe causes many pain
I will not fault the elixir that washes every stain.
The lovers’ laughter and cry many layers do contain
At night I compose, and in the morn cry out my gain.
Hafiz said, from breathing in dust of the tavern do refrain
Fault me not, this is the way that this aroma I regain.
Shahriar Shahriari,Los Angeles, Ca,April 2, 1999
And fill the cup with red wine
The firmaments let us shatter
And come with a new design
If sorrow's soldiers incite
To shed lovers' blood tonight
With beloved I will unite
And his foundations malign
Pour the red wine with control
Like rose-water into the bowl
While fragrant breeze will roll
And sweet incense refine
With a harp on display
We ask the players to play
While clapping we sing and say
And dancing, our heads decline
Blow our dust O gentle breeze
And throw at the Master's knees
The Good King has the keys
While we glance at the sign
One boasts & brags with his mind
One weaves talks of idle kind
All the judgment that we find
Let the Judge weigh and define
If Eden is what you need
To the tavern let us speed
The jug of wine let us heed
And Paradise will be thine
Merry songs and fair speech
In Shiraz they do not teach
Another land let us reach
Hafiz, and then we shine
© Shahriar Shahriari,Los Angeles, Ca,January 13, 2000
Ask not of parting poisons that make me impure.
I have traveled the world and in the end
Ask not what lover I willingly allure.
Longing for a vision, at her door
Ask not of the tears that I pour.
With my own ears I heard her last night
Ask not of her words, harsh yet demure.
Bite not your upper lip and speak not
Ask not what sweet lips I may secure.
In my mendicant state without you
Ask not of my pain and need for a cure.
On the path of Love, Hafiz, lost & unsure
Ask not of his standing, high and pure.
© Shahriar Shahriari,Los Angeles, Ca,January 23, 2000