The first poem by Hafez to appear in English was the work of Sir William Jones (q.v. يُتَظَنّى مِنَ الكَآبَةِ إِذ يَبـ *** ـدو لِعَينَي مُصَبِّحٍ أَو مُمَسّي Consider Madaʾin’s great arch as admonition’s mirror. چه می‌گویم که هست این نکته باریک شب روشن میان روز تاریک where now is his feast, his golden herbs? 65-67), صنت نفسي عما يدنس نفسي *** وَتَرَفَّعتُ عَن جَدا كُلِّ جِبسِ The belly of the earth swells pregnant with them ever more. چه نسبت خاک را با عالم پاک که ادراک است عجز از درک ادراک لابِساتٌ مِنَ البَياضِ فَما تُبـ *** ـصِرُ مِنها إِلّا غَلائِلَ بُرسِ One of Hafez’s most musical and delightful ghazals: (modified from Reza Saberi’s translation in The Divan of Hafez, p. 51). Hafez Shams-ud-Dīn Muhammad Shirazi was born in 1326 in the Persian city of Shiraz, Iran.
Look on this sea of insight, don’t pass by without a drink; One cannot leave the shore of such a sea with thirsting lips. لَم يَعِبهُ أَن بُزَّ مِن بُسُطِ الديـ *** ـباجِ وَاستَلَّ مِن سُتورِ الدِّمَقسِ Pourafzal and Roger Montgomery, [Home] [Hafiz] A deep but dazzling darkness, as men here. بهِ كلُّ قلبٍ ، فيهِ كلُّ غَرامِ, وفي وَصْلِها ، عامٌ لدَيَّ كَلَحْظَةٍ [Poetry] [Hafiz CD]. provided at no charge for educational purposes. بُلَغٌ مِن صُبابَةِ العَيشِ عِندي *** طَفَّفَتها الأَيّامُ تَطفيفَ بَخسِ
You ask, ‘Where have they gone, those crowned heads?’ Behold!
مُزعَجًا بِالفِراقِ عَن أُنسِ إِلفٍ *** عَزَّ أَو مُرهَقًا بِتَطليقِ عِرسِ
For the sake of سیاهی گر بدانی نور ذات است به تاریکی درون آب حیات است وَهوَ يُنبيكَ عَن عَجائِبِ قَومٍ *** لايُشابُ البَيانُ فيهِم بِلَبسِ Click The first poem by Hafez to appear in English was the work of Sir William Jones (q.v. وَالمَنايا مَواثِلٌ وَأَنوشِر *** وانَ يُزجى الصُفوفَ تَحتَ الدِرَفسِ عُمِّرَت لِلسُرورِ دَهرًا فَصارَت *** لِلتَعَزّي رِباعُهُم وَالتَأَسّي
This is that very Aivan where, from the impress of men’s faces, The dirt of its threshold was transformed to an idol-temple’s wall, This is that very court wherein, of the rulers of the world, Babylon’s king was a Daylami, Turkestan’s king, and Indian, This is that very portico whose grandeur was so awesome, That the lion of its hangings assaulted Lion’s heaven, Imagine it is that very age, and look, with reflection’s eye, On the chain before the court, the splendid assembly in the field, Dismount from your horse, and place your face upon the mat of earth and see, How great Nu’man is checkmated beneath its elephants’ feet, Nay, nay: see, like Nu’man, those elephant-felling kings themselves, Slain by the elephants Night and Day in the winding turns of time, How many an elephant-slaying king has been slain with a king-elephant. all accounts even the best translations have been only partially تَصِفُ العَينُ أَنَّهُم جِدُّ أَحيا *** ءَ لَهُم بَينَهُم إِشارَةُ خُرسِ By all accounts even the best translations have been only partially successful.