I swear it by that Koran which thou keepest in thy bosom.
Translation by: Edward Granville Browne
Saturday, July 25, 2009
نديدم خوشتر از شعر تو حافظ به قرآنى كه اندر سينه دارى
I have never seen any poetry sweeter than thine, O Hafez,
I swear it by that Koran which thou keepest in thy bosom.
Translation by: Edward Granville Browne
I swear it by that Koran which thou keepest in thy bosom.
Translation by: Edward Granville Browne
Hafiz-e Shirazi
Born : 1310-1325 a.d. Place: Shiraz, in South-central Iran
Name: Shamseddin Mohammad
Died : 1390, Shiraz at the age of 69.
Poetry: Divan-e-Hafiz (500 ghazals, 42 Rubaiyees, and a few Ghaseedeh's)
Died : 1390, Shiraz at the age of 69.
Poetry: Divan-e-Hafiz (500 ghazals, 42 Rubaiyees, and a few Ghaseedeh's)
Here is a list of some selected poems :
Don’t separate from me..............
Don’t separate from me, thou dearer than my eyes 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
I have said many a time..............
I have said many a time, and I’ll say it once againThough 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
Rose petals let us scatter............
Rose petals let us scatterAnd 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 what sorrows for love ...........
Ask not what sorrows for love I endureAsk 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
O heart, the pain of love burned ..........
O heart, the pain of love burned once again Beloved departed and drove the lover insane.
O flowers, you played your magic tricks
Alas that the drunk the sober shall reign.
My tears were my friends, since Beloved stayed away
My unkind fate from helping would refrain.
At dawn Beloved's house's bright glow
The lover's wounded heart would strain and pain.
O bearer give me a cup, since the hidden hand that writes
Has plans, access to which nobody can gain.
The artist of firmaments, earth and spheres
Nobody knows what plans it would feign.
Burning love, Hafiz's heart would entertain
Beloved from old times this poor lover has slain.
© Shahriar Shahriari,Los Angeles, Ca,January 20, 2000
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