No one has seen your face, and yet
Thousands of rivals seek you;
You’re still a bud and yet a hundred
Nightingales entreat you.
However far I am from you
(May no one know that place!)
I cannot help but hope that soon
I’ll be in your embrace;
And it’s not strange that I should choose
Your street in which to wait –
Thousands of strangers in this world
Are in the selfsame state
The loved one doesn’t spare a glance-
The lover must endure it;
And there’s no pain, or if there is
The doctor’s here to cure it.
In love, the Sufi meeting house
And wine-shop are one place;
As are all places where we find
The loved one’s radiant face;
And what the Sufis make a show of
Can be found equally
Among the monks, before their cross
Within a monastery.
Hafez’s cry is not mere nonsense
When all is said and done;
Though it’s a strangely curious tale,
And a perplexing one.
۶۳. روی تو کس ندید و هزارت رقیب هست
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
At dawn, upon the breeze, I caught
the scent of my beloved’s hair
And once again my crazy heart
was laboring in its old despair
Out of the garden of my breast
I’ve torn her sapling silhouette
Since when my longings for her blossom,
grief is the bitter fruit they set.
Fearing the torment of her love,
I freed my heart from her; but when
My heart dripped blood, the path its drops
marked out…led back to her again
I saw the full moon rise above
his castle’s roof, splendid and bright;
But when her shining sun arose
the moon, for shame, concealed its light.
I took musicians at their word
and always, everywhere, I sought
For messengers who’d traveled love’s
hard road, and all the news they brought.
My lover’s way from end to end,
is good and kind, and little cares
Whether a man tells Muslim beads
or murmurs Christian prayers.
May God forgive her eyebrow’s curve
That’s made me weak and powerless,
Since it can comfort, with a glance
A sick man’s feverish distress
I was amazed to see Hafez
drink wine last night; but then I knew
Better than to object to this-
he drank as secret Sufis do.
۱۴۶. صبا وقت سحر بویی ز زلف یار میآورد
Original:
صبا وقت سحر بویی ز زلف یار میآورد
دل شوریده ما را به بو در کار میآورد
من آن شکل صنوبر را ز باغ دیده برکندم
که هر گل کز غمش بشکفت محنت بار میآورد
فروغ ماه میدیدم ز بام قصر او روشن
که رو از شرم آن خورشید در دیوار میآورد
ز بیم غارت عشقش دل پرخون رها کردم
ولی میریخت خون و ره بدان هنجار میآورد
به قول مطرب و ساقی برون رفتم گه و بیگه
کز آن راه گران قاصد خبر دشوار میآورد
سراسر بخشش جانان طریق لطف و احسان بود
اگر تسبیح میفرمود اگر زنار میآورد
عفاالله چین ابرویش اگر چه ناتوانم کرد
به عشوه هم پیامی بر سر بیمار میآورد
عجب میداشتم دیشب ز حافظ جام و پیمانه
ولی منعش نمیکردم که صوفی وار میآورد
Translations modified from: Dick Davis. Faces of Love: Hafez and the Poets of Shiraz. Mage, 2012