Amir Khusrow


English Translation:
I have become you, and you me,
I am the body, you, the soul;
So that no one can say hereafter,
That you are someone, and I, someone else.

Orginal (transliteration):
Mun tu shudam tu mun shudi,mun tun shudam tu jaan shudi
Taakas na guyad baad azeen, mun deegaram tu deegari

Ḥallāj

I am He whom I love, and He whom I love is I

two spirits dwelling in one body

if you see me, you see Him,
and if you see Him, you see us.

Original:

أنا من أهوى و من أهوى أنا        نحن روحان حللنا بدنا

فإذا أبصرتني أبصرته        و إذا أبصرته أبصرتنا

Amir Khusrow

Khusrau raen suhaag ki, jaagi pi ke sung,
Tun mero mun pi-u ko, dovu bhaye ek rung.

Khusrau (the bride) spends the eve of her wedding
Awake with her beloved, (in such a way that)
The body belongs to her, but heart to the beloved,
The two become one.

Khusrau baazi prem ki main khelun pi ke sung,
Jeet gayi to piya moray, haari, pi kay sung.

I, Khusrau, play the game of love with my beloved,
If I win, the beloved’s mine, defeated, I’m beloved’s.

English Translation:
The creaking of the chain of Majnun is the orchestra of the lovers,
Appreciating its music is beyond the ears of the wise. 

Orginal (transliteration):

Naala-e zanjeer-e Majnun arghanoon-e aashiqanast

Zauq-e aan andaza-e gosh-e ulul-albaab neest

Translation:

If there is a paradise on earth,

It is here, it is here, it is here

Orginal (transliteration):

Agar firdaus bar roo-e zameen ast,

Hameen ast-o hameen ast-o hameen ast.

Amir Khusro

Translation:

This eternal pain has left me broken

One glance of your drunken eyes and I lost my faith

My life is now a tale of the past

Spent, and sacrificed at the temple of you

O wondrous intoxicating eyes, o wondrous long locks

O wondrous worshipper of wine, o wondrous enchanter

As he draws the sword, I bow my head to be slain in prostration

How wondrous is his beneficence how wondrous, my submission

In the moment of being slain, my eyes beheld your face

O wondrous kindness, o wondrous guidance

O wondrous flirting, o wondrous beguiling,
O wondrous tilted cap, o wondrous tormentor.
Do not reveal the Truth; in this world blasphemy prevails, Khusrau;
O wondrous source of mystery, o wondrous knower of secrets.

Transliteration:

sarmad dardi ajab shikaste kardi
eman bafizae chasm-e-maste kardi
umre ke baya to ahadess guzasht
rafte-o-nisare butparaste kardi

chasm-e-maste ‘ajabe zulf taraze ‘ajabe
maiparaste ‘ajabe fitna taraze ‘ajabe
bahr-e-qatlam chu kashad teghe neham sar basujood
Ou banaaze ‘ajabe man banayaaze ‘ajabe

waqt-e-bismil shudanam chashm barooyash baz ast
mehrbaane ‘ajabe bandanawaaze ‘ajabe

turk taaze ‘ajabe shoba babaaze ‘ajabe
kajkhulaahe ‘ajabe ‘abrada saze ‘ajabe

haq mago kalma-e-kufr ast dar in ja Khusrau
razdaane ‘ajabe sahib-r-raz-e-‘ajabe

chashm e maste ajabe zulf taraze ajabe…

Hafez

Translation:

The scent of your curling locks keeps me drunk constantly

the charm of your magic eyes leaves me wasted ceaselessly

After so much patience, O Lord, will I ever be able to light

the candle of my sight at the mihrab of your eyebrow?

The black of vision’s tablet is as dear as anything to me

Because it is the drawing of your black mole for my soul

If you wish to decorate the whole world forever

tell the dawn wind to lift the veil from your face for a time

I, from the sorcery of your intoxicating eyes,

and the dawn wind, from the scent of your hair, are two hopeless vagabonds

How great is Hafez’s zeal! For in his eye nothing appeared

of this world or the next, save the dust of your street

Original:

مُدامم مست می‌دارد نسیم جَعد گیسویت                   خرابم می‌کند هر دم فریب چَشم جادویت
پس از چندین شکیبایی شبی یا رب توان دیدن                 که شمع دیده افروزیم در محراب ابرویت؟
سواد لوح بینش را عزیز از بهر آن دارم             که جان را نسخه‌ای باشد ز لوح خال هندویت
تو گر خواهی که جاویدان جهان یک سر بیارایی             صبا را گو که بردارد زمانی بُرقع از رویت
و گر رسم فنا خواهی که از عالم براندازی           برافشان تا فروریزد هزاران جان ز هر مویت
من و باد صبا مسکین دو سرگردانِ بی‌حاصل        من از افسون چشمت مست و او از بوی گیسویت
زهی همت که حافظ راست از دنیا و از عُقبیٰ                 نیاید هیچ در چشمش بجز خاک سر کویت

The minstrel played a melody from the pain of love

that covered the philosopher’s eyelashes in blood

-Hafez

Translation:

For years I pawned my book for wine,

      the rowdiness of the tavern was from my teaching and praying

See the goodness of the Magian Pīr:

       Whatever we drunks did was beautiful in his kind eye

Wash the whole book of our knowledge in wine

       for I saw that heaven despises the wise

O heart, if you know beauty, then seek it in idols

        as one who knows the science of sight has said

My heart moved around in every direction, like a compass

        while part of it stood in that circle, amazed

The minstrel played a melody from the pain of love

         that covered the philosopher’s eyelashes with blood

I blossomed with joy, for like a rose on the lips of a stream

         the shadow of that cypress’s tall stature fell on my head

My saffron Pīr did not allow any bad speech about the blue-clad

          otherwise, there would be many tales…

Hafez’s gold-plated, counterfeit heart could not be spent before him

          for this dealer could see all hidden defects

Original:

سال‌ها دفتر ما در گرو صهبا بود
رونق میکده از درس و دعای ما بود
نیکی پیر مغان بین که چو ما بدمستان
هر چه کردیم به چشم کرمش زیبا بود
دفتر دانش ما جمله بشویید به می
که فلک دیدم و در قصد دل دانا بود
از بتان آن طلب ار حسن شناسی ای دل
کاین کسی گفت که در علم نظر بینا بود
دل چو پرگار به هر سو دورانی می‌کرد
و اندر آن دایره سرگشته پابرجا بود
مطرب از درد محبت عملی می‌پرداخت
که حکیمان جهان را مژه خون پالا بود
می‌شکفتم ز طرب زان که چو گل بر لب جوی
بر سرم سایه آن سرو سهی بالا بود
پیر گلرنگ من اندر حق ازرق پوشان
رخصت خبث نداد ار نه حکایت‌ها بود
قلب اندوده حافظ بر او خرج نشد
کاین معامل به همه عیب نهان بینا بود

Translation:

Ay, ay, ay, ay…

I am not

I am not from this land

nor do I know anyone.

He who does,

whoever has done good for my child

May God bless you

Lyrics:

Ay,ay,ay,ay…
No soy,
no soy de esta tierra,
ni conozco a nadie.
El que lo haga.
Quien lo hiciera a bien para mi niño.
que Dios se lo pague.

Ibn al-Fāriḍ

Translation:

It is love, so surrender your body—passion is not easy

One stricken by it would not choose it, had he reason

So live without it, for love’s ease is hard

it’s beginning is sickness, and its end is death

But for me, dying in love longingly

for the one I love, is life revived abundantly

I have warned you, knowing love and my transgressions

so choose for yourself what is sweet

But if you want to live happily,

then die in love a martyr—if not, then Love has its people

For whoever does not die in love has not lived it

without facing the bees, you can never gather honey

Say unto the love-slain: “you have fulfilled its right”

and to the pretender: “how different are black eyes and eyeliner!”

Original:

هو الحُبّ فاسلم بالحشا ما الهَوى سهلَ
فـما اخـتارَهُ مُـضْنى بـه وله عقْلُ

وعِـشْ خـالياً فـالحُبّ راحتُهُ عَناً
وأَوّلُــهُ سُـقْـمٌ وآخـرُهُ قَـتْلُ

ولـكنْ لـديّ الـموتُ فـيه صَبابةً
حـياةٌ لـمَن أهـوى عليّ بها الفضل

نـصحْتُك عِـلماً بالهَوَى والذي أرى
مـخالَفَتي فـاختر لـنفسكَ مـا يحلو

فـإن شـئتَ أن تحيا سعيداً فمُتْ بِهِ
شـهـيداً وإلاّ فـالغرامُ لـهُ أهْـل

فـمن لـم يـمُتْ فـي حُبّه لم يَعِشْ به
ودون اجـتناءِ النّحل ما جنتِ النّحل

وقُـلْ لـقتيلِ الـحبّ وَفّـيتَ حقّه
ولـلمدعي هيهاتِ ما الكَحَلُ الكَحْل

Amīr Khusro

Translation:

You took my heart from my body, but you’ve stayed in my soul

You given me so much pain, and yet you remain the cure

You split my chest wide open, but in it, you’ve stayed hidden

With flirtation’s sword, you laid waste the kingdom of the heart

And yet, there you remain, a sultan amidst the ruins

The two worlds is what you’ve set as your price

Raise the price, for this is still too cheap

Like salt, I dissolved from shedding many tears

While, from your smile, you remain so sugar-sweet

My soul was freed from its body’s bonds

While my heart remains a prisoner in your curling locks

Old age and beauties’ worship seem to go along so well

Khusro, how long will you remain troubled by this turmoil?

Original:

          ملک دل کردی خراب از تیغ ناز

واندرین ویرانه سلطانی هنوز

           هر دو عالم، قیمت خود گفته‌ای

نرخ بالا کن که ارزانی هنوز

            ما ز گریه چون نمک بگداختیم

تو ز خنده شکرستانی هنوز

             جان ز بند کالبد آزاد گشت

دل به گیسوی تو زندانی هنوز

               پیری و شاهدپرستی هم خوشست

خسروا تا کی پریشانی هنوز؟

Amir Khusro

My heart left me, but longing for you won’t leave my heart

My heart broke apart, but the pain of you won’t lessen

The moon at night rises opposite your face

but the day will never come when the moon can oppose it

My face is pale gold, and I grind it with the dust of your door

but to be united with you is an unattainable alchemy

At your hands, my tears are a sash

hung over heaven’s shoulders

but my hands cannot hang draped around your neck

I sit in sorrow: though my soul departs, my heart cannot rise up and leave

My heart is a waystation of grief, but no caravan of patience can reach it

or escape the brigands of absence

Khusrau fell into the whirling abyss of longing

the ship of his desire will not make shore

English Translation from: In the Bazaar of Love by Paul Losensky and Sunil Sharma

Original:

دل رفت و آرزوی تو از دل نمی شود
دل پاره گشت و درد تو زائل نمی شود
مه می شود مقابل روی تو هر شبی
یک روز با رخ تو مقابل نمی شود
رویم زر است و بر در تو خاک می کنم
وصل تو کیمیاست که حاصل نمی شود
شد اشک من حمایل گردون ز دست تو
دستم به گردن تو حمایل نمی شود
بنشسته ام به غم که ز عشق تو خاستن
با آنکه جان همی شودم، دل نمی شود
دل منزل غم آمد و از رهزنان هجر
یک کاروان صبر به منزل نمی شود
خسرو در اوفتاد به غرقاب آرزو
چون کشتی مراد به ساحل نمی شود

Ḥallāj

You disappeared, but not from my heart

and you became my happiness and joy

in separation, separation was separated from me

and became my presence in the unseen

For you are the hidden secret of my passion

In my heart, hidden deeper than fantasy

You are my friend in the light of day

and my companion in the darkness

Original:

غىبتَ وما غِىبتَ عن ضميري

و صرت فرحتي و سروري

و انفصل الفصل بافتراق

فصار في غيبتي حضوري

فأنت في سرّ غيب همّي

أخفى من الوهم في ضميري

تؤنسي بالنهار حقا

و أنت عند الدجى سميري

I’ve quoted from these before, but here are two of my favorite ghazals in their entirety:

(If the videos on the other pages on this site don’t appear for you, try emptying your cache and reloading the page)

Translation:

The outward ascetic has no knowledge of our state

          Whatever he says about us, there’s no room for disagreement

Whatever happens to the traveler of the Path is for his own good

           No one is lost on a straight path

Depending on how the game goes, we may move a pawn

          The king has no chance on the gangster’s chessboard

What is this lofty ceiling, plain or many-patterned?

          No wise person in the world can solve this mystery

O Lord what manner of proud grandeur and power is this?

          There are so many hidden wounds, and no space for a sigh…

It seems our bookkeeper doesn’t know the account

          For nothing in the ledger is for the sake of God’s reward

Original:

زاهد ظاهرپرست از حال ما آگاه نیست
در حق ما هر چه گوید جای هیچ اکراه نیست
در طریقت هر چه پیش سالک آید خیر اوست
در صراط مستقیم ای دل کسی گمراه نیست
تا چه بازی رخ نماید بیدقی خواهیم راند
عرصه شطرنج رندان را مجال شاه نیست
چیست این سقف بلند ساده بسیارنقش
زین معما هیچ دانا در جهان آگاه نیست
این چه استغناست یا رب وین چه قادر حکمت است
کاین همه زخم نهان هست و مجال آه نیست
صاحب دیوان ما گویی نمی‌داند حساب
کاندر این طغرا نشان حسبه لله نیست
هر که خواهد گو بیا و هر چه خواهد گو بگو
کبر و ناز و حاجب و دربان بدین درگاه نیست
بر در میخانه رفتن کار یک رنگان بود
خودفروشان را به کوی می فروشان راه نیست
هر چه هست از قامت ناساز بی اندام ماست
ور نه تشریف تو بر بالای کس کوتاه نیست
بنده پیر خراباتم که لطفش دایم است
ور نه لطف شیخ و زاهد گاه هست و گاه نیست
حافظ ار بر صدر ننشیند ز عالی مشربیست
عاشق دردی کش اندربند مال و جاه نیست

Translation:

 No one has seen your face, and yet a thousand rivals seek you

        Although you’re still a bud, a hundred gazelles entreat you

Although I’m far from you, may no one ever be far from you

         I still hope that I can be united with you soon

If I come to your home, it is not so strange

         There are thousands of strangers like me in this land

In love there is no difference between the Sufi lodge and the tavern

         Everywhere that is is illumined by the light of the beloved’s face

Wherever they are performing the rites of the abbey

         There is rule of the monastery the name of the cross

Whoever became a lover without the friend glancing at him?

         O Master, there is no pain, otherwise there are many physicians

Hafez’s cry was not in vain after all

         It is a strange story and a wondrous tale

Original:

روی تو کس ندید و هزارت رقیب هست
در غنچه‌ای هنوز و صدت عندلیب هست
گر آمدم به کوی تو چندان غریب نیست
چون من در آن دیار هزاران غریب هست
در عشق خانقاه و خرابات فرق نیست
هر جا که هست پرتو روی حبیب هست
آن جا که کار صومعه را جلوه می‌دهند
ناقوس دیر راهب و نام صلیب هست
عاشق که شد که یار به حالش نظر نکرد
ای خواجه درد نیست وگرنه طبیب هست
فریاد حافظ این همه آخر به هرزه نیست
هم قصه‌ای غریب و حدیثی عجیب هست

Compare with Amir Khusro’s Ghazal:

I am the slave of that face which no one is allowed to see

          mad for tresses that no one can pass by, nor is allowed to touch

A thirsty flame licks my breast, and displays in the distance

          a drink, which no one’s allowed to taste.

Whether or not I look at him, I don’t have long to live,

        My friend, is this any time to not allow looking?

Hundreds of hearts and eyes await your arrows

          How is it that it’s only unlucky me they’re not allowed to hit?

Lord what agony this captive bird must feel!

          when they won’t accept its sacrifice, nor its flight allow

Let me hear a single word and I’ll give up my soul

          Isn’t it forbidden for me to die without ever being allowed to hear?

My breast was torn to a hundred shreds, my heart is cut to a hundred pieces

            Why won’t these ignorant fools allow me to take off these tattered clothes?

Khusrau was pierced hundred of times by cruel thorns of separation

              Will he ever be allowed to pluck a rose from your garden?

Original:

من بنده آن روي که ديدن نگذارند
ديوانه زلفي که کشيدن نگذارند
از تشنگيم شعله زنان سينه و از دور
شربت بنمايد و چشيدن نگذارند
چون زيستني نيستم، ار بينم و ار ني
اي دوست، چه وقت است که ديدن نگذارند؟
صد ديده و دل منتظر تير تو، فرياد
کش با من بيچاره رسيدن نگذارند
يارب، چه عذابي ست برين مرغ گرفتار؟
بسمل نپسندند و پريدن نگذارند
گفتم سخني بشنوم و جان دهم اکنون
محروم بميرم، چو شنيدن نگذارند؟
صد چاک شده سينه و صد پاره شده دل
اين بي خبران جامه دريدن نگذارند
امروز صبا از جگرم بوي گرفته ست
زنهار کزان سوش وزيدن نگذارند
صد خار جفا خورد ز هجران تو خسرو
آه، ار گلي از روي تو چيدن نگذارند

Transliteration (first lines)

Abr mi barad-o man shovm-e az yar-e judaa
Choon kunam dil becheneen roz zedildar judaa.
Abr baraan wa man-o yar satadah ba-widaa’
Man judaa girya kunaan, abr judaa, yaar judaa

Translation:

The cloud weeps, and I become separated from my friend -

How can I separate my heart from my heart’s friend on such a day.
The cloud weeping – and I and the friend standing, bidding farewell –
I weeping alone, the clouds alone, the friend alone….

The new sprouts, the joyous air, the bright green garden

and the black-faced nightingale, parted form the roses

Ah poor me, bound to every strand of your hair

what are you doing, pulling me apart, limb from limb

My eyes rain down tears, for you the pupil of my eye

Stand firm, don’t be swept away on this flood of tears

I will no longer need the gift of sight

after my eyes are parted from the gift of your sight

My eyes crack from weeping over you

Quick, take clay from your path

and fill the parting cracks in the wall

Don’t go, I will give you my soul

If you don’t believe me, if you want more, take it and keep it

Your beauty won’t last long after you’ve left Khusro

The rose doesn’t last long apart from the throrn

Original:

ابر می بارد و من می شوم از یار جدا
چون کنم دل به چنین روز ز دلدار جدا
ابر و باران و من و یار ستاده به وداع
من جدا گریه کنان، ابر جدا، یار جدا
سبزه نوخیز و هوا خرم و بستان سرسبز
بلبل روی سیه مانده ز گلزار جدا
ای مرا در ته هر موی به زلفت بندی
چه کنی بند ز بندم همه یکبار جدا
دیده از بهر تو خونبار شد، ای مردم چشم
مردمی کن، مشو از دیده خونبار جدا
نعمت دیده نخواهم که بماند پس از این
مانده چون دیده ازان نعمت دیدار جدا
دیده صد رخنه شد از بهر تو، خاکی ز رهت
زود برگیر و بکن رخنه دیوار جدا
می دهم جان مرو از من، وگرت باور نیست
پیش ازان خواهی، بستان و نگهدار جدا
حسن تو دیر نپاید چو ز خسرو رفتی
گل بسی دیر نماند چو شد از خار جدا

Compare with Bob Marley’s “Stand Alone”:

Two more gems from Amir Khusrau, Bahut kathin and Tori Surat:

Bahut kathin

Translation:

The path to the well is too rough
How can I fill my pitcher?
When I went to fill my pitcher with water
In my rush, I broke my pot.
Khusro has given his whole life to you, O Nizam.
Would you please protect the honor of my veil
The path to the well is too rough

Transliteration:

Bahut Kathin hai dagar panghat ki,
Kaisay main bhar laaun madhva say matki?
Paniya bharan ko main jo gayi thi,
Daud jhapat mori matki patki.
Bahut kathin hai dagar panghat ki.
Khusro Nizam kay bal bal jayyiye
Laaj rakho moray ghoonghat pat ki.
Bahut kathin hai dagar panghat ki.

Tori Surat

Transliteration:

 

Tori surat ke balihari, Nijaam
Sab sakhiyan mein chundar mori mailee,
Dekh hansain nar naari,
Ab ke bahar chundar mori rang de,
Piya rakh lay laaj hamari, Nijaam.
Sadqa baba Ganj-e-Shakar ka,
Rakh lay laaj hamari, Nijaam.
Qutab, Farid mil aaye barati,
‘Khusrau’ raajdulaari, Nijaam.
Kouo saas kouo nanad say jhagday,
Hamko aas tihaari, Nijaam.
Tori surat ke balihari, Nijaam.

 

 

Translation:

Poverty is more pleasant than majesty;

      depravity, more pleasant than piety.

Majesty has its headaches, and when last I looked

      beggary was more pleasant.

Since kings let no one approach them,

      being indigent among the poor is more pleasant

When pride gets into someone’s head,

      being pals with a dog from the streets is more pleasant

When the heart breaks with melancholy over some beauty

      that breaking is more pleasant than any salve

Public love play with idols is more pleasant

      than all this devout hypocrisy

Once won, there’s no pleasure in love

      Separation, for those who play this game, is more pleasant.

Put your base love out of your mind, Khusrau

Love for the sacred secret is more pleasant

Original:

مفلسي از پادشايي خوشتر است
مفسدي از پارسايي خوشتر است
پادشاهي راست درد سر، ولي
چون نگه کردم گدايي خوشتر است
پادشاهان چون به خود ندهند راه
با فقيران بي نوايي خوشتر است
آدمي چون کبر در سر مي کند
با سنگ کو، آشنايي خوشتر است
دل که از سوداي خوبان بشکند
آن شکست از موميايي خوشتر است
آشکارا عشقبازي بيا بتان
از بسي زهد ريايي خوشتر است
نيست لذت عشق را بعد از وصال
عشقبازان را جدايي خوشتر است
عشق دوتان، خسروا، از سر بنه
عشق با سر خدايي خوشتر است

Translation:

Since we’ve pulled our skirts back form the spread of worldly wares

      we’ve rolled up our clothes and moved into the beggar’s alley

Sāqī pour out the wine from the flask

      for we have drunk too many tears from sky-blue bottles

Since the cup of black and white dice that roll across the earth’s green felt

      is loaded full of trickery, we have drunk dark red wine

Now it’s poverty and its myriad meanings like threads

      that we’ve woven into a blanket and pulled down over our head

We’ve pulled back the skirts of ambition from all the world yields

      since it could never fill the pockets of greed.

Smash the assayer’s touchstone against a rock

      Gold is just yellow clay when we have wisdom’s scales

Khusrau, we are not children to seek out shiny yellow and reds

Like adults we’ve pulled back our hearts from gold and pearls

Original:

تا دامن از بساط جهان در کشیده ایم
رخت خرد به کوی قلندر کشیده ایم
ای ساقی، از قرابه فرو ریز می که ما
خونابه ها ز شیشه اخضر کشیده ایم
در حقه سفید و سیه بر بساط خاک
چون پر دغاست، باده احمر کشیده ایم
فقر است و صد هزار معانی درو چو موی
آن را گلیم کرده و در سر کشیده ایم
چون جیب حرص پر نشد از حاصل جهان
دامان همت از سر آن در کشیده ایم
بر سنگ زن عیار زر، ایرا گلی ست زرد
چون در ترازوی خردش بر کشیده ایم
خسرو نه کودکیم که جوییم سرخ و زرد
چون بالغان دل از زر و گوهر کشیده ایم

Translation:

The wise ought not to set their hearts

      on the seductiveness the world displays

Why fall in love with the phantasms of this world

      The mirror shows the  face to be a borrowed thing

Don’t think the knots on your brow are firm and strong

      Fate takes note of them only to untie them

How vainly you say, “I will stand firm.”

      If life itself won’t stand firm, how will you?

While alive, one’s meaning and form remain

      Though through form, one joins meaning

My heart is in ruins and people have hearts of stone

      One shouldn’t rebuild this edifice with such bricks

Humankind is chaff, how can it cling to gold?

      Straw is naturally drawn to amber.

You’ll get no provisions from worthless companions

      The camel is mated, but no foal is born

When you speak bitterly, the answer will be the same

      If you curse an enemy, he won’t reply sweetly

Seeking insight form the immature is

      like a fool rubbing his head against unfired brick

If you ask me truly about the story of this world—

      it’s an easy lie that Khusrau sings.

Original:

بدان دلفریبی که گیتی نماید
خردمند را دل نهادن نشاید
چه بندی دل اندر خیالات عالم؟
که آیینه رو عاریت می نماید
گره های غمزه مبین سخت و محکم
که چرخش ندید آن، مگر می گشاید
چه بیهوده گویی که پاینده مانم
تو مانی، اگر زندگانی نپاید؟
کسی زنده ماند به معنی و صورت
که از راه صورت به معنی گراید
دل خلق سنگین و دل در خرابی
ازان سنگها این عمارت نشاید
خس است آدمی، چون گرفتار زر شد
چون آن کاه کش کهربا می رباید
ز اصحاب ناجنس زادی نیابی
که استر شود جفت و کره نزاید
چو تو تلخ گویی، همان است پاسخ
عدوگاه دشنام شکر نخاید
بدان ماند از خام جستن بصیرت
که بر خشت خام ابلهی سر نساید
حدیث جهان گر ز من راست پرسی
دروغی ست آسان که خسرو سراید

Translation:

My life is over and I did not turn to the Lord

       I did not seek out those moments of rapture, and now the chance has slipped

How can my heart wash away its filthy corruption?

        Unlike my tears, my ablutions failed to flood me with regret

My tears did not wash away my black disgrace

        My face did not shine bright in the ranks of true men

What do I know of the path of those lion-hearted nocturnal wanderers

        When I haven’t spent a night or two even roaming the alleys with dogs?

Never a ball nestled in the crook of love’s polo stick,

        my head could not be struck by the ecstasy of my Sultan’s presence

My rheumy nose could not pick up the smell of musk

        too congested to catch the perfume of creation.

They advise me to give up my bad habits, but how can I do so now

        when I haven’t made a habit of it from the first?

I threw away my whole life on lies:

        I never bowed down sincerely before the Lord.

Poetry became my plague, alas that Khusrau never said, “Silence”

        and I never stopped talking.

Original:

برفت عمر و به سوي خداي روي نکردم
بشد غنيمت و اوقات جستجوي نکردم
ز لوث فسق دل من چگونه دست بشويد؟
به غسل جاي ندامت چو ديده چوي نکردم
سياه رويي خود را به آب ديده نشستم
به صف مردان خود را سفيد روي نکردم
طريق شيردلي هاي شبروان چه شناسم
که صحبتي دو سه شب باسگان کوي نکردم؟
کجا به حضرت سلطان قبول حال بيايد
سري که در خم چوگان عشق گوي نکردم
دماغ کرد چنينم که طيب خلق ندانم
زکام داشت بر آنم که مشک بوي نکردم
به ترک خوي بدم مي دهند پند، وليکن
کنون چگونه کنم، کز نخست خوي نکردم؟
تمام عمر برانداختم به کذب که هرگز
به صدق پيش خدا قامت دو توي نکردم
وبال من همه شعر آمد و دريغ که خسرو
نگفت «خاموش » و من ترک گفتگوي نکردم

Translations from In the Bazaar of Love 

by Paul Losensky and Sunil Sharma

Compare with Hafez’s ghazal:

Translation:

Last night a wise, keen-minded one whispered to me,

“The wine-seller’s secret should not be hidden from you.”

He said, “Take it easy, for by its nature,

the world is hard on those who try hard.”

And then he gave me a cup and in its light, across the heavens

Venus began to dance, and played her lute, and cried, “Drink!”

While your heart bleeds, let your lips smile like the cup.

Don’t, if you are stuck, break into a roar like the harp

Until you are an initiate you will not hear a secret in this music.

The outsider’s ear is no place for the angel’s message.

Listen to my advice, O son, and don’t worry about the world.

I told a pearl-like ḥadīth if you can hear it

In love’s sanctuary there is no murmur of debate

because all your limbs must be eye and ear.

In the shop of those who understand subtlety,

hawking oneself is not allowed. Speak knowingly, o wise one, or be quiet

O Sāqī, give us wine, because Aṣaf of auspicious birth,

forgiver of sins and overlooker of faults, understands what Hafez really means

Translation from The Green Sea of Heaven

by Elizabeth Gray

Original:

دوش با من گفت پنهان کاردانی تیزهوش
وز شما پنهان نشاید کرد سر می فروش
گفت آسان گیر بر خود کارها کز روی طبع
سخت می‌گردد جهان بر مردمان سخت‌کوش
وان گهم درداد جامی کز فروغش بر فلک
زهره در رقص آمد و بربط زنان می‌گفت نوش
با دل خونین لب خندان بیاور همچو جام
نی گرت زخمی رسد آیی چو چنگ اندر خروش
تا نگردی آشنا زین پرده رمزی نشنوی
گوش نامحرم نباشد جای پیغام سروش
گوش کن پند ای پسر وز بهر دنیا غم مخور
گفتمت چون در حدیثی گر توانی داشت هوش
در حریم عشق نتوان زد دم از گفت و شنید
زان که آنجا جمله اعضا چشم باید بود و گوش
بر بساط نکته دانان خودفروشی شرط نیست
یا سخن دانسته گو ای مرد عاقل یا خموش
ساقیا می ده که رندی‌های حافظ فهم کرد
آصف صاحب قران جرم بخش عیب پوش

Quran 2:165

وَمِنَ النَّاسِ مَن يَتَّخِذُ مِن دُونِ اللَّهِ أَندَادًا يُحِبُّونَهُمْ كَحُبِّ اللَّهِ ۖ وَالَّذِينَ آمَنُوا أَشَدُّ حُبًّا لِّلَّهِ ۗ وَلَوْ يَرَى الَّذِينَ ظَلَمُوا إِذْ يَرَوْنَ الْعَذَابَ أَنَّ الْقُوَّةَ لِلَّهِ جَمِيعًا وَأَنَّ اللَّهَ شَدِيدُ الْعَذَابِ

“Translation”:

Among the people are some who take peers apart from God, loving them as if loving God. And those who believe are more intense in love for God. If only those who were unjust could see, they would see the punishment/sweetness: that all power is God’s and God is intense in punishment/sweetness.

Tafsir Maybudi 

They say that a man met a woman recognizer, and her beauty exercised its influence over his heart. He said, “’My all is busy with your all.’ O woman! I have lost myself in love for you.”

She said, “Why don’t you look at my sister, who is more beautiful and lovely than I?”

He said, “Where is your sister so that I may see her?”

She said, “Go, idler! Passion is not your work. If your claim to love me were true, you would not care about anyone else.”…

Shiblī said, “I learned Sufism from a dog that was sleeping at the door of a house. The owner came out and was driving the dog away, but the dog kept on coming back. I said to myself, ‘How base this dog is! He drives him away, and he keeps on coming back.’ The Exalted Lord brought that dog to speech and it said, ‘O Shaykh! Where should I go? He is my owner.’”

I will not leave the Friend at a hundred iniquities and cruelties.

Even if He increases them, I will not be troubled,

It is I who chose Him over everyone else;

if I complain about Him, I will have no excuse.

Tafsir Kashani

But the believers love God more ardently, than any other, because they only love God. Their love for Him is not confounded with love of others and is not subject to change. They love things through [their] love of God and for God and in the measure that they find in these [things] a divine aspect…

or [it means that] they love [God] more than they love their deities because they love things in themselves for themselves and so inevitably their love changes [for these things] when they themselves change the accidents of their souls upon fear of perdition and the harm that the soul brings upon them. Believers love God through their spirits and their hearts, nay, through God and for God. Their love [for Him] does not change because it is selfless. They expend their spirits and their souls for the sake of His countenance and His approval, abandoning all of their desires for His desire, loving His acts even when they conflict with their caprices, as one of them said: “I desire to connect with Him while He desires to abandon me, so I abandon what I desire for what He desires.”

Tafsir Anon.

Nothing but God is loved, nothing but God is worshipped— Your Lord has decreed that you worship none but Him (17:23)— indeed nothing but God is. However, some limit their love of God to a particular form or forms of His, an idol of sorts.

Those who love God in a limited form, in idols or “peers,” love a limited form, and thus their love is limited. Those who love God, Who is beyond all limitation (and is even beyond the limitation of being beyond limitation) love Him in each and every form, without limitation. Thus their love is unlimited, and more intense. He loves them and they love Him (5:54). They love Him with His love.

Those who wrong themselves by limiting their love to a particular form or forms, if they could only see, would know the intense sweetness of love unlimited, and the severe punishment of limited love, especially when compared to sweetness of unlimited love. The pain of regret and envy is severe punishment.

Ibn ‘Arabi 

Faṣṣ Harūn:

Have you seen him who has taken desire for his God? (45:23)

The greatest and most exalted locus of self-disclosure wherein He is worshipped is that of desire. Remember that He has said, Have you seen him who has taken his desire for his God? It is the greatest object of worship since nothing is worshipped except through it, and it is only worshipped by itself. Concerning this I say:

The truth of desire is that desire is the cause of desire

If not for desire in the heart, desire would not be worshipped

و حق الهوى إن الهوى سبب الهوى         لو لا الهوى في القلب ما عُبِدَ الهوى

Do you not see how perfect God’s knowledge of things is, how He perfects one who worships is desire and takes it has his divinity?… He sees this worshipper worshipping only his his desire, complying with its command to worship the individual whom he worships. Even his worship of God comes from his desire. If one did not have desire for the Divine—which is a will based on love—one would not worship God, nor would one prefer Him to another. Likewise, anyone who worships some form of the world and makes it a divinity only does so because of desire. The worshipper is forever under the influence of his desire. Now, he sees the objects of worship diversified amongst the worshippers, and each one who worships something, denies one who worships something else. One who has the least bit of awareness will be bewildered at the unanimity of desire, nay by the oneness of desire, for it is the same essence in every worshipper. God led him astray, that is, bewildered him, out of knowledge that every worshipper only worships his own desire, and only seeks to worship his desire whether it coincides with the prescribed command or not.

The perfect Knower is he who sees every object of worship as a locus of self-disclosure of the Real wherein to worship Him.

Ibn al-Fāriḑ

If I say:  I have for you, each and every love

He says: Lovelieness is mine and every beauty is in me

إنْ قُلْتُ:عِندي فيكَ كل صَبابة ٍ؛       قالَ:المَلاحة ُ لي، وكُلُّ الحُسْنِ في

Turn your gaze to the beauties of his face,

Where all beauty has been gathered

If all beauty were perfected into one form

on seeing him, it would exclaim [in wonder],

“There is no god but God, and God is greater.”

فأَدِرْ لِحَاظَكَ في محاسنِ وجْهه            تَلْقَى جميعَ الحُسْنِ فيه مُصَوَّرا

لو أنّ كُلّ الحُسْنِ يكمُلُ صُورةً                    ورآهُ كان مُهَلِّلاً ومُكَبِّر

Shustarī

Her mystery flows through everything

so everything inclines towards her

Whoever witnesses the secret of her beauty says

that it is everywhere, but its fullness is hidden

Original:

كل  شِي   سرُها   فيه     سَرَى        فلذا   يثنى   عليها   كل      شيْ

قال  مَن  أشهدَ   معنى   حُسنها        إِنه     منتشرُ     والكل     طيْ

She is adorned with each and every kind of beauty
And the people of passion are mad with love for her, wherever she appears.

تحلّت بأنواع الجمال بأسرها                  فهام بها أهل الهوى حيثُ حلّت

Hafez

Everyone, sober or drunk, seeks the beloved.

Every place, be it mosque or synagogue, is the house of love

همه كس طالب يارند چه هشيار و چه مست

همه جا خانه عشق است چه مسجد چه كنشت

Unknown

Various ways have those who love from (mere) passion

But I have a unique way,  in which I dwell alone.”

مذاهب شتى للمحبّين في الهوى            و لي مدهب فرد أعيش به وحدي

“Have you ever seen anything more lovely?”

I said, “is there anything else in existence?”

Original

We all long for her loveliness

on earth, in skies above

There is no other beauty

and nothing else to love

I said, “all my love is yours

all loves and for all time.”

She said, “it’s only fitting since

every beauty is mine.”

Love loves Love

and Love is One

that is all there is below

and all there is above

Hafez’s poetry and Persian Miniatures come to life:

Hafez:

Translation:

Love’s minstel has wonderful harmony and melody

Every song in his repertoire has a path to a place

May the world never be empty of the cry of lovers

Because it has a sweet and joyful voice

Although our dreg-draining Pir has neither gold nor force,

He has a sin-forgiving and fault-concealing God

My heart was honoured like this sugar-worshipping fly

Since he became Your desire, he has the splendor of the Huma

It is not far from justice, if the king asks around

about his neighbor the beggar

I showed my bloody tears to the physicians, they said:

“It’s love’s pain and the burning of the liver has the cure”

Avoid the tyranny of glances, for in Love’s way

 Each act has a recompense, and every deed, a reward

That idol of a Christian wine-seller said well:

“Enjoy the happiness on the face of a pure one”

O Great King!  Hafiz, a member of your court, recites the fatiha

And desires a prayer from your tongue

Original:

          مطرب عشق عجب ساز و نوایی دارد

 نقش هر نغمه که زد راه به جایی دارد

                    عالم از ناله عشاق مبادا خالی

که خوش آهنگ و فرح بخش صدايى دارد

     پیر دردی کش ما گر چه ندارد زر و زور

 خوش عطابخش و خطاپوش خدایی دارد

             محترم دار دلم کاین مگس قندپرست

 تا هواخواه تو شد فر همایی دارد

             از عدالت نبود دور گرش پرسد حال

 پادشاهی که به همسایه گدایی دارد

               اشک خونین بنمودم به طبیبان گفتند

 درد عشق است و جگرسوز دوایی دارد

         ستم از غمزه میاموز که در مذهب عشق

 هر عمل اجری و هر کرده جزایی دارد

           نغز گفت آن بت ترسابچه باده فروش

 شادی روی کسی خور که صفایی دارد

 خسروا حافظ درگاه نشین فاتحه خواند

 و از زبان تو تمنای دعایی دارد

The Peacock

Until your hair falls through the fingers of the breeze

My yearning heart lies torn apart with grief

 Black as sorcery, your magic eyes

Render this existence an illusion

 The dusky mole encircled by your curls

Is like the ink-drop falling in the curve of the jeem (ج)

 And wafting tresses in the perfect garden of your face,

Drop like a peacock falling into paradise

My soul searches for the comfort of a glance

Light as the dust arising from your path

Unlike the dust, this earthly body stumbles,

Falling at your threshold, falling fast

Your shadow falls across my frame

Like the breath of Jesus over withered bones

And those who turn to the Ka’aba as their sanctuary

Now with the knowledge of your lips, tumble at the tavern door

 O precious love, the suffering of your absence and lost Hafez

Fell and fused together with the ancient past

Original:

تا سر زلف تو در دست نسیم افتادست

دل سودازده از غصه دو نیم افتادست

چشم جادوی تو خود عین سواد سحر است

لیکن این هست که این نسخه سقیم افتادست

در خم زلف تو آن خال سیه دانی چیست

نقطه دوده که در حلقه جیم افتادست

زلف مشکین تو در گلشن فردوس عذار

چیست طاووس که در باغ نعیم افتادست

دل من در هوس روی تو ای مونس جان

خاک راهیست که در دست نسیم افتادست

همچو گرد این تن خاکی نتواند برخاست

از سر کوی تو زان رو که عظیم افتادست

سایه قد تو بر قالبم ای عیسی دم

عکس روحیست که بر عظم رمیم افتادست

آن که جز کعبه مقامش نبد از یاد لبت

بر در میکده دیدم که مقیم افتادست

The Fish

When my beloved offers the cup

Graven idols are crushed

 And those who gaze into that intoxicating eye

Cry out for the police

 I plunge into the ocean like a fish

Craving the beloved’s hook

 I fall pleading at those feet

In hope of a helping hand.

 Happy is the heart who like Hafez

Is drunk with the wine of pre-eternity

Original:

یارم چو قدح به دست گیرد

بازار بتان شکست گیرد

هر کس که بدید چشم او گفت

کو محتسبی که مست گیرد

در بحر فتاده‌ام چو ماهی

تا یار مرا به شست گیرد

در پاش فتاده‌ام به زاری

آیا بود آن که دست گیرد

خرم دل آن که همچو حافظ

جامی ز می الست گیرد

translations modified from Jila Peacock’s Ten Poems form Hafez. Sylph Editions, 2006

Hafez

Translation:

Come! For last night, the tavern’s unseen voice told me

to be pleased with the divine decree and not to flee from destiny

Between Lover and Beloved there is no barrier

You yourself are your own veil, Hafez. Remove yourself!

Original:

When the bubble fills its head with the air of arrogance

It blows its head off as it rises to the top of the wine

You are the obstacle on the road, Hafez, get out of the way!

Blessed is he who walks on this road without obstacle.

Original:

Full poems

Translation:

My heart is bound to that wild, coquettish gypsy

   who breaks promises, and kills, and is false

May a thousand robes of of virtue and cloaks of chastity

   be sacrificed for the patched frock of the moon-faced

Angels do not know what love is, O Saqi

   ask for a cup and pour rose water on Adam’s dust

I am the slave of those words that kindle fire

   not those words that pour cold water on the flames

I came to your door poor and tired. Have mercy!

   I have no excuse save my love for you

Don’t be proud of your cleverness, for as it is said,

   there are many reasons for the command that deposes as king

Tie a cup to my shroud, so that on the morn of resurrection

   I can wash away the terror of the day from my heart with wine

Come! For last night, the tavern’s unseen voice told me

   to be pleased with the divine decree and not to flee from destiny

Between Lover and Beloved there is no barrier

You yourself are your own veil, Hafez. Remove yourself from in between.

Original:

دلم رمیده لولی‌وشیست شورانگیز

دروغ وعده و قتال وضع و رنگ آمیز

فدای پیرهن چاک ماه رویان باد

هزار جامه تقوا و خرقه پرهیز

خیال خال تو با خود به خاک خواهم برد

که تا ز خال تو خاکم شود عبیرآمیز

فرشته عشق نداند که چیست ای ساقی

بخواه جام و گلابی به خاک آدم ریز

غلام آن كلماتم كه آتش انگيزد

نه آب سرد زند در سخن به آتش تيز

فقیر و خسته به درگاهت آمدم رحمی

که جز ولای توام نیست هیچ دست آویز

مباش غره به بازى خود كه در خبرست

هزار تعبيه در حكم پادشاه انگيز

پياله بر كفنم بند تا سحرگه حشر

به مى ز دل ببرم هول روز رستاخيز

بیا که هاتف میخانه دوش با من گفت

که در مقام رضا باش و از قضا مگریز

میان عاشق و معشوق هیچ حائل نیست

تو خود حجاب خودی حافظ از میان برخیز

Translation:

When I touch the tip of her tress, it upsets her

and If I apologize, she blames me

Like the new moon, with the corner of her eyebrow

she entices helpless bystanders and then hides behind a veil

On the night of wine, she ruins me with wakefulness

And if I complain by day, she goes to sleep

O heart, the way of love is full of trouble and tumult

He who hurries along this road stumbles

Do not trade begging at the beloved’s door for sovereignty

Does anyone go form the shade of this door to the sun?

When the blackness of hair is finished

it whiteness does not decrease even if a hundred choices are made

When the bubble fills its head with the air of arrogance

It blows its head off as it rises to the top of the wine

You are the obstacle on the road, Hafez, get out of the way!

Blessed is he who walks on this road without obstacle.

Original:

چو دست بر سر زلفش زنم به تاب رود

ور آشتی طلبم با سر عتاب رود

چو ماه نو ره بیچارگان نظاره

زند به گوشه ابرو و در نقاب رود

شب شراب خرابم کند به بیداری

وگر به روز شکایت کنم به خواب رود

طریق عشق پرآشوب و فتنه است ای دل

بیفتد آن که در این راه با شتاب رود

گدایی در جانان به سلطنت مفروش

کسی ز سایه این در به آفتاب رود

سواد نامه موی سیاه چون طی شد

بیاض کم نشود گر صد انتخاب رود

حباب را چو فتد باد نخوت اندر سر

کلاه داریش اندر سر شراب رود

حجاب راه تویی حافظ از میان برخیز

خوشا کسی که در این راه بی‌حجاب رود

Ibn al-Fāriḍ

Translation:

Purity but not water, Subtlety but not air

Light but not fire, spirit but not body

Original:

صفاءٌ، ولا ماءٌ، ولُطْفٌ، ولاهَواً،

ونورٌ ولا نارٌ وروحٌ ولا جسمُ

Dattatreya

Translation:

Neither space nor air is the Reality;
Neither earth nor fire is the Reality.
If there’s only the limitless One, all is Shiva.
Which, then is the cloud, and which is the rain?

Original:

गगनं पवनो न हि सत्यमिति
धरणी दहनो न हि सत्यमिति ।
यदि चैकनिरन्तरसर्वशिवं
जलदश्च कथं सलिलं च कथम्

Avadhuta Gita
Chapter 6, Verse 9

Ibn ‘Ajībah

In speaking of the Sufi, they have invoked the similitude of the four elements upon which the physical world is based: air, earth, water, and fire, also known as the four natures, and mentioned by Ibn Sina in the verses

What Hippocrates said of them was sound:

They are fire, water, earth, and wind

All four of these can be found in the nature of the Sufi.

al-futūḥāt al-ilāhiyyah fī sharḥ al-mubāḥith al-aṣliyyah

Ḥallāj

Translation:

My heart had various longings,

    but since seeing you, they’ve all become one

My envied mine envier became, and

    I became the Lord of mankind, since my lord you became

I left everyone to their world and their religion

    busy with my love for you, oh my world and my religion

You lit two fires in my liver:

    one between my ribs and the other between my guts.

Original:

أحِبُكَ حُبَيْنِ حُبَ الهَـوىٰ
وحُبْــاً لأنَكَ أهْـل ٌ لـِذَاك

Ibrahim Ferrer

Translation:

Two gardenias for you;
With them I wish to say:
I love you, I adore you, my love.

Place all your attention on them,
because they are your heart
and mine.

Two gardenias for you
that will have all the warmth
of a kiss.
Of those kisses that I gave you
and that you shall never find
in the warmth of another love.

Beside you they will live
and they will talk to you
as when you are with me.
And you will even believe
that they say to you: “I love you.”

But if one evening,
my love’s gardenias
should happen to die
it’s because they have discovered
that you have betrayed me
because there is another love.

Taken from http://lyricstranslate.com/

Original:

Dos gardenias para ti
Con ellas quiero decir
Te quiero, te adoro, mi vida.
Ponles toda tu atención
Porque son tu corazón y el mío.

Dos gardenias para ti
Que tendrán todo el calor de un beso
De esos besos que te di
Y que jamás encontraras
En el calor de otro querer.

A tu lado vivirán y te hablarán
Como cuando estás conmigo
Y hasta creerás
Que te dirán te quiero

Pero si un atardecer
Las gardenias de mi amor se mueren
Es porque han adivinado
Que tu amor se ha marchitado
Porque existe otro querer

Baden Powell and Vinicius de Moraes

Translation:

Me without you, there’s no reason
Because without you, I can’t even cry
I’m flame without light, garden without moonlight
Moonlight without love, love that’s not given

And without you I’m only lovelorn
A ship without sea, a field without flower
Sadness that goes, sadness that comes
Without you, my love, I’m no one

Ah, what longing
How I wish to see our life reborn
Come back, darling
My arms need yours
Your arms need mine

I’m so alone
My eyes weary of looking into the distance
Come see life
Without you, my love, I’m no one
Without you, my love, I’m no one

Original:

Eu sem você não tenho porquê
Porque sem você não sei nem chorar
Sou chama sem luz, jardim sem luar
Luar sem amor, amor sem se dar

Em sem você sou só desamor
Um barco sem mar, um campo sem flor
Tristeza que vai, tristeza que vem
Sem você, meu amor, eu não sou ninguém

Ah, que saudade
Que vontade de ver renascer nossa vida
Volta, querida
Os meus braços precisam dos teus
Teus braços precisam dos meus

Estou tão sozinho
Tenho os olhos cansados de olhar para o além
Vem ver a vida
Sem você, meu amor, eu não sou ninguém
Sem você, meu amor, eu não sou ninguém.

Lyrics From:

 http://lyricstranslate.com/en/samba-em-p…

More about the song here

Rumi

Translation:

I can be without anyone, but without you, I just can’t

My wand’ring heart bears your brand, go without you, it just can’t

Reason’s eye is drunk off you, Heaven’s wheel whirls under your thumb

Pleasure’s nose is in your hand, but without you, I just can’t

From you, the soul comes to a boil, and from you, the heart is fed

From you, reason starts to roar, but without you, I just can’t

You’re my wine and poison, my garden and spring

My sleep and my resting place, and without you, I just can’t

You’re my rank and my glory, dominion and wealth

You’re my crystal water, and without you, I just can’t

Sometimes you are faithful, and sometimes you’re untrue

Where are you going without me? For I just can’t, without you

They offer their hearts, you take it; they make repentance, you break it

All this and still more you do, but I just can’t, without you

If it were possible to be without you, the whole world would turn inside-out

The Garden of Eden would be a hell, for I just can’t, without you

If you’re the head, I’ll be the foot; if the hand, then I’m your flag

If you go, I’ll be nothing, for without you, I just can’t

You’ve bewitched me from my sleep, you’ve erased my own outline

You’ve cut me off from everything, for without you, I just can’t

If you won’t be my partner, all my work will lie in ruin

My companion and comfort—without you, I simply can’t

Without you, there’s no joy in life, nor is there relief in death

How can I kill my grief for you, when without you, I simply can’t?

Whatever I say, o my love, is not separate from my good and bad

From your sweet kindness, won’t you please say too:

That I simply cannot be without you

Original:

دیده عقل مست تو چرخه چرخ پست تو

گوش طرب به دست تو بی‌تو به سر نمی‌شود

جان ز تو جوش می‌کند دل ز تو نوش می‌کند

عقل خروش می‌کند بی‌تو به سر نمی‌شود

خمر من و خمار من باغ من و بهار من

خواب من و قرار من بی‌تو به سر نمی‌شود

جاه و جلال من تویی ملکت و مال من تویی

آب زلال من تویی بی‌تو به سر نمی‌شود

گاه سوی وفا روی گاه سوی جفا روی

آن منی کجا روی بی‌تو به سر نمی‌شود

دل بنهند برکنی توبه کنند بشکنی

این همه خود تو می‌کنی بی‌تو به سر نمی‌شود

بی تو اگر به سر شدی زیر جهان زبر شدی

باغ ارم سقر شدی بی‌تو به سر نمی‌شود

گر تو سری قدم شوم ور تو کفی علم شوم

ور بروی عدم شوم بی‌تو به سر نمی‌شود

خواب مرا ببسته‌ای نقش مرا بشسته‌ای

وز همه‌ام گسسته‌ای بی‌تو به سر نمی‌شود

گر تو نباشی یار من گشت خراب کار من

مونس و غمگسار من بی‌تو به سر نمی‌شود

بی تو نه زندگی خوشم بی‌تو نه مردگی خوشم

سر ز غم تو چون کشم بی‌تو به سر نمی‌شود

هر چه بگویم ای سند نیست جدا ز نیک و بد

هم تو بگو به لطف خود بی‌تو به سر نمی‌شود

Shabistari

The Rose Garden of Mystery (verses 122-130)

Reason’s light applied to the Essence of Lights

is like the eye of the head looking at the brilliance of the Sun

when the object seen is very close to the eye

The eye is darkened so that it cannot see it

This blackness, if you know it, is the very light of Being

in the land of darkness is the fountain of life

Since the darkness destroys the light of vision

Give up loooking, for this is no place for looking

What connection has dust with the pure world?

Its perception is the inability to perceive perception

…

What shall I say? since this saying is fine,

“A bright night in the midst of a dark day”

In this place of witnessing, which is the light of manifestation

 I have much to say, but silence is best.

Original:

بود نور خرد در ذات انور              به سان چشم سر در چشمه خور
چو مبصر با بصر نزدیک گردد              بصر ز ادراک آن تاریک گردد
سیاهی گر بدانی نور ذات است              به تاریکی درون آب حیات است
سیه جز قابض نور بصر نیست               نظر بگذار کین جای نظر نیست
چه نسبت خاک را با عالم پاک        که ادراک است عجز از درک ادراک
سیه رویی ز ممکن در دو عالم                       جدا هرگز نشد والله اعلم
سواد الوجه فی الدارین درویش                 سواد اعظم آمد بی کم و بیش
چه می‌گویم که هست این نکته باریک              شب روشن میان روز تاریک
در این مشهد که انوار تجلی است           سخن دارم ولی نا گفتن اولی است

Ibn al-Fāriḍ

Translation:

If he should visit one day, o my heart, tear yourself to shreds in love for him

            and if he should leave, o eye, pour out tears

But there is no harm in distance, for the one I love is with me

             For if he be absent form the pupil of my eye, yet still he is in me

Original:

إنْ زارَ، يوماً ياحَشايَ تَقَطَّعي،     كَلَفاً بهِ، أو سارَ، يا عينُ اذرِفي
ما للنّوى ذّنْبٌ، ومَنْ أهوى مَعي،       إنْ غابَ عنْ إنسانِ عيني فهوَ في

Shakespeare

Sonnet 43

When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see,
For all the day they view things unrespected;
But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee,
And darkly bright, are bright in dark directed.
Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright,
How would thy shadow’s form form happy show
To the clear day with thy much clearer light,
When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so!
How would, I say, mine eyes be blessed made
By looking on thee in the living day,
When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade
Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay!
       All days are nights to see till I see thee,
       And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.

by e.e. cummings

 Hafez sang:

بلبلى خون جگر خورد و گلى حاصل كرد
باد غيرت به صادش خار پريشان دل كرد
طوطيى را به خيال شكرى دل خوش بود
ناگهش سيل فنا نقش امل باطل كرد

Gertrude Bell’s translation:

The nightingale with drops of his heart’s blood
Had nourished the red rose, then came a wind,
And catching at the boughs in envious mood,
a hundred thorns about his heart entwined.
Like to the parrot crunching sugar, good
Seemed the world to me who could not stay
The wind of Death that swept my hopes away.

Compare with this beautiful recitation of Keats’ Ode to a Nightingale:

Hafez

Translation:

Weep, O Nightingale, if you wish to be my friend

For we are two helpless lovers, whose work is weeping

In that land where the breeze blows from the beloved’s locks

what room is there for boasting of the musk of Tartar?

Bring wine so we can dye our cloak of hypocrisy

We are drunk form the cup of arrogance and we call it sobriety

Cherishing the thought of your hair is not for the novice

going under the chain is the way of the elite

There is a hidden subtlety that gives rise to love

whose name is neither ruby lip nor auburn cheek’s down

A person’s beauty is not in the eye nor face, nor cheek, nor hair

there are a thousand fine points in this work of beauties

The Qalandars of Truth do not buy, for half a barley corn,

the silk robe of the person who is without art

It is difficult to reach your doorstep

ascension to the heaven of joy is difficult

At dawn I dreamt of the seductive glance of your eye

Ah, some stages of sleep are better than being awake…

Do not harm his heart with your wailing, hush now Hafez

For eternal salvation lies in doing the least harm

Original:

بنال بلبل اگر با منت سر یاریست
که ما دو عاشق زاریم و کار ما زاریست

در آن زمین که نسیمی وزد ز طره دوست
چه جای دم زدن نافه‌های تاتاریست

بیار باده که رنگین کنیم جامه زرق
که مست جام غروریم و نام هشیاریست

خیال زلف تو پختن نه کار هر خامیست
که زیر سلسله رفتن طریق عیاریست

لطیفه‌ایست نهانی که عشق از او خیزد
که نام آن نه لب لعل و خط زنگاریست

جمال شخص نه چشم است و زلف و عارض و خال
هزار نکته در این کار و بار دلداریست

قلندران حقیقت به نیم جو نخرند
قبای اطلس آن کس که از هنر عاریست

بر آستان تو مشکل توان رسید آری
عروج بر فلک سروری به دشواریست

سحر کرشمه چشمت به خواب می‌دیدم
زهی مراتب خوابی که به ز بیداریست

دلش به ناله میازار و ختم کن حافظ
که رستگاری جاوید در کم آزاریست

`

Translation:

At dawn, the nightingale complained to the breeze, saying:

“Oh the things that loving the rose’s face has done to me…”

It pulled off the veil of the rose and brushed away the tress of the hyacinth

and opened the knot of the cord of the bud’s robe

The lover nightingale cried out in all directions

But it was the breeze that was blessed from this

Blessed be the morning breeze that

remedied the pain of those who stay awake at night

No more will I complain of strangers

for any wrong to me was done my that dear one

If I coveted a favor from the sultan, it was a mistake

If I sought faithfulness from the beloved, she was cruel.

I am the slave of the generous spirit of that dear one

Who did good deeds without pretension and hypocrisy

take the good news to the winesellers’ street

That Hafez repented of pretentious abstinence

Original:

از آن رنگ رخم خون در دل افتاد

وز آن گلشن به خارم مبتلا کرد

غلام همت آن نازنینم

که کار خیر بی روی و ریا کرد

من از بیگانگان دیگر ننالم

که با من هر چه کرد آن آشنا کرد

گر از سلطان طمع کردم خطا بود

ور از دلبر وفا جستم جفا کرد

خوشش باد آن نسیم صبحگاهی

که درد شب نشینان را دوا کرد

نقاب گل کشید و زلف سنبل

گره بند قبای غنچه وا کرد

به هر سو بلبل عاشق در افغان

تنعم از میان باد صبا کرد

بشارت بر به کوی می فروشان

که حافظ توبه از زهد ریا کرد

Translation:

I went to the garden one morning to pick a rose

and suddenly heard a nightingale’s song.

Like me, the poor bird had fallen in love with a rose

and in the field, raised a commotion with his cries.

And as I walked through that field and garden

I thought on that rose and nightingale.

The rose befriended beauty, and the nightingale, love

neither showed any signs of changing.

As the song of the nightingale entered my heart,

it got to the point where I could stand it no longer.

Many roses bloom in this garden, but

none plucks a rose without the pain of a thorn.

Hafez, harbor hope of deliverance from this cycle of existence

It has a thousand flaws and not one redeeming virtue.

Original:

رفتم به باغ صبحدمی تا چنم گلی

آمد به گوش ناگهم آواز بلبلی

مسکین چو من به عشق گلی گشته مبتلا

و اندر چمن فکنده ز فریاد غلغلی

می‌گشتم اندر آن چمن و باغ دم به دم

می‌کردم اندر آن گل و بلبل تاملی

گل یار حسن گشته و بلبل قرین عشق

آن را تفضلی نه و این را تبدلی

چون کرد در دلم اثر آواز عندلیب

گشتم چنان که هیچ نماندم تحملی

بس گل شکفته می‌شود این باغ را ولی

کس بی بلای خار نچیده‌ست از او گلی

حافظ مدار امید فرج از مدار كون

دارد هزار عیب و ندارد تفضلی

Translation:

“Ask for wine and throw flowers. What else do you want from time?”

The rose said this at dawn, O nightingale, what do you say?

Take your seat in the rose garden so that you may kiss

the beauty and the Saqi on the lip and cheek and drink wine and smell roses

Upon whom will your smiling bud bestow its fortune

O elegant rose, for whose sake do you grow?

Each bird comes to the king’s rose garden with a tale

The nightingale with his song and Hafez with his prayer.

Original:

می خواه و گل افشان کن از دهر چه می‌جویی

این گفت سحرگه گل بلبل تو چه می‌گویی

مسند به گلستان بر تا شاهد و ساقی را

لب گیری و رخ بوسی می نوشی و گل بویی

تا غنچه خندانت دولت به که خواهد داد

ای شاخ گل رعنا از بهر که می‌رویی

هر مرغ به دستانی در گلشن شاه آمد

بلبل به نواسازی حافظ به غزل گویی

Camaron

Translation:

Step into that corner
where the gnats do not bite
I do not care about anyone
but you, my little dear

In the Moorish quarter
Juanola le puso el cura
Juanola pa to la vía.

I saw the flowers cry
when you entered the garden,
because the flowers would all like
to look like you.

Keep away from the people
who do not know our love,
the farther you are from the saint,
the closer to devotion.

And the day you were born
all the flowers bloomed
and at the baptismal font
nightingales sang.

Original:

Lerelere lele…aay

Métete en aquel rincón
donde las mosquitas no te coman
cuenta yo no le doy a nadie
primita de tu persona.

De la morería
Juanola le puso el cura
Juanola pa to la vía.

Al verte las flores lloran
cuando entras tu al jardín,
porque las flores quisieran
toítas parecerse a ti.

Retírate que la gente
no conozca nuestro amor,
contra más lejos esté el santo
más cerca la devoción.

Y el día que tú naciste
nacieron toítas las flores
y en la pila de bautismo
cantaron los ruiseñores.

These three wonderful ghazals are right next to one another in Hafez’s Divan:

Ghazal 344:

Translation:

With your black eyelashes, you poked thousands of holes in my faith

Come, let me pick thousands of pains from your lovesick eyes.

O companion of the heart who has forgotten your friends

Let there be no day when I am without your memory.

The world is old and without foundation—Alas, the fraud and deceit

of this killer of Farhad has made me tired of my sweet life.

The fire of separation drowned me in sweat like the rose

O dawn wind, bring a breeze from the one who wipes my sweat.

I sacrifice the ephemeral and eternal worlds for the young beauty and the Saqi

for I see the sultanate of the world as a parasite of love.

If the Friend chooses another in my place, the choice is His

But God forbid that I choose my life in place of the Friend.

The nightingale sang good morning. Where are you, Saqi? Arise!

For the memory of last night’s dream clamors in my head.

On the night of death, I shall go from my bed to the huri’s palace

if I you are the candle at my bedside as I surrender my soul.

The story of longing that became recorded in this book

is wholly without fault, for Hafez taught it to me.

(Translation From The Divan of Hafez by Reza Saberi, p. 410)

Original:
به مژگان سیه کردی هزاران رخنه در دینم
بیا کز چشم بیمارت هزاران درد برچینم
الا ای همنشین دل که یارانت برفت از یاد
مرا روزی مباد آن دم که بی یاد تو بنشینم
جهان پیر است و بی‌بنیاد از این فرهادکش فریاد
که کرد افسون و نیرنگش ملول از جان شیرینم
ز تاب آتش دوری شدم غرق عرق چون گل
بیار ای باد شبگیری نسیمی زان عرق چینم
جهان فانی و باقی فدای شاهد و ساقی
که سلطانی عالم را طفیل عشق می‌بینم
اگر بر جای من غیری گزیند دوست حاکم اوست
حرامم باد اگر من جان به جای دوست بگزینم
صباح الخیر زد بلبل کجایی ساقیا برخیز
که غوغا می‌کند در سر خیال خواب دوشینم
شب رحلت هم از بستر روم در قصر حورالعین
اگر در وقت جان دادن تو باشی شمع بالینم
حدیث آرزومندی که در این نامه ثبت افتاد
همانا بی‌غلط باشد که حافظ داد تلقینم

Ghazal 355:

Translation:

The way I see it, the best thing for me to do now is:

to go to the tavern and sit there happily.

Having no friend nor companion save my book and a cup

so that I see less of the deceitful colleagues.

I boasted of piety so much in my stained robe

that I am shamed by the Saqi’s face and the colorful wine.

I will take the cup of wine and stay away from the hypocrites

That is, of the people of the world, I will choose the one with a pure heart.

If it be possible to gather up my skirt from this world,

I will freely raise my head up above the people like a cypress.

My heart has the dust of many cruelties

O God, do not allow this mirror which is accustomed to love to be tarnished.

If I am the rascal of the tavern or the Hafez of the city,

I am that which you see or even less.

My straightened chest and the burden of his grief? Impossible.

My wretched heart is no match for this heavy burden.

I am the slave of the Asaf of the age. Do not mislead my heart.

For if I complain of the wheel, he will avenge me thereon.

(Translation From The Divan of Hafez by Reza Saberi, p. 411)

Original:

حالیا مصلحت وقت در آن می‌بینم
که کشم رخت به میخانه و خوش بنشینم
جام می گیرم و از اهل ریا دور شوم
یعنی از اهل جهان پاکدلی بگزینم
جز صراحی و کتابم نبود یار و ندیم
تا حریفان دغا را به جهان کم بینم
سر به آزادگی از خلق برآرم چون سرو
گر دهد دست که دامن ز جهان درچینم
بس که در خرقه آلوده زدم لاف صلاح
شرمسار از رخ ساقی و می رنگینم
سینه تنگ من و بار غم او هیهات
مرد این بار گران نیست دل مسکینم
من اگر رند خراباتم و گر زاهد شهر
این متاعم که همی‌بینی و کمتر زینم
بنده آصف عهدم دلم از راه مبر
که اگر دم زنم از چرخ بخواهد کینم
بر دلم گرد ستم‌هاست خدایا مپسند
که مکدر شود آیینه مهرآیینم

Ghazal 353:

Translation:

I will not renounce love, the young beauty, and the cup of wine

I repented a hundred times and will do so no more.

The garden of paradise, the shade of Tuba, and the palace of heavenly maidens,

I will not compare them to the dust of the friend’s street.

The teaching and guidance of men of vision is but an allusion

I said this as a metaphor and will not repeat it again.

I am never conscious of my own head

until I raise it in the middle of a tavern.

The advisor tauntingly told me not to drink wine, it is forbidden.

I said alright. But I do not listen to every donkey.

The Shaykh told me angrily, “Stop falling in love!”

There is no need to quarrel, brother. I will not.

This much piety is enough for me that I do not wink at

the beautiful youths of the city from the top of the pulpit.

Hafez, the Magian Pīr’s side is a stately place

I will not give up kissing the dust of this door.

(Translation From The Divan of Hafez by Reza Saberi, p. 409)

Original:

من ترک عشق شاهد و ساغر نمی‌کنم
صد بار توبه کردم و دیگر نمی‌کنم
باغ بهشت و سایه طوبی و قصر و حور
با خاک کوی دوست برابر نمی‌کنم
تلقین و درس اهل نظر یک اشارت است
گفتم کنایتی و مکرر نمی‌کنم
هرگز نمی‌شود ز سر خود خبر مرا
تا در میان میکده سر بر نمی‌کنم
ناصح به طعن گفت که رو ترک عشق کن
محتاج جنگ نیست برادر نمی‌کنم
این تقویم تمام که با شاهدان شهر
ناز و کرشمه بر سر منبر نمی‌کنم
حافظ جناب پیر مغان جای دولت است
من ترک خاک بوسی این در نمی‌کنم

There’s a close relationship between Hafez’s poetry and the Qur’an, and it’s seldom as explicit as in the poem below:

Translation:

This is the night of power and the book of separation is at an end

Therein is happiness until the break of dawn.

O heart, be steadfast in love

For on this path, no work is without reward.

I will not repent of my dissolute ways.

even if you punish me with banishment and separation.

My heart left, but I did not see the face of the sweetheart

weeping from this disdain and oh, from this grief.

Oh heart-illuminating morning, arise for God’s sake.

For the night of separation looks dark to me.

Hafez, if you want fidelity, endure cruelty

for there is gain and loss in trade.

Original:

شب وصل است و طی شد نامه هجر
سلام فیه حتی مطلع الفجر
دلا در عاشقی ثابت قدم باش
که در این ره نباشد کار بی اجر
من از رندی نخواهم کرد توبه
و لو آذیتنی بالهجر و الحجر
برآی ای صبح روشن دل خدا را
که بس تاریک می​بینم شب هجر
دلم رفت و ندیدم روی دلدار
فغان از این تطاول آه از این زجر
وفا خواهی جفاکش باش حافظ
فان الربح و الخسران فی التجر

Surah al-Qadr

Translation:

Truly we sent it down in the Night of Power

And what shall apprise thee of the Night of Power?

The Night of Power is better than a thousand months.

The Angels and the Spirit descend therein, by the leave of their Lord, with every command

Peace it is until the break of dawn.

Original:

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم  إِنَّا أَنْزَلْنَاهُ فِي لَيْلَةِ الْقَدْرِ  وَمَا أَدْرَاكَ مَا لَيْلَةُ الْقَدْرِ  لَيْلَةُ الْقَدْرِ خَيْرٌ مِنْ أَلْفِ شَهْرٍ  تَنَزَّلُ الْمَلَائِكَةُ وَالرُّوحُ فِيهَا بِإِذْنِ رَبِّهِمْ مِنْ كُلِّ أَمْرٍ  سَلَامٌ هِيَ حَتَّى مَطْلَعِ الْفَجْرِ   .^[1