The hardest thing in the world…

ahh, who hasn’t felt like this…

The hardest thing in the world
is studied and learned well
I tried to study your love
But I couldn’t understand
Why I suffer and cry like a child


Before the image of Christ
I saw her crying one day
Striking her chest
because she was repenting for
the damage she had done to me



Lo más difícil del mundo
Se estudia y se aprende bien
Me puse a estudiar tu cariño
Y no lo pude comprender
Por eso sufro y lloro como un niño

Ante la imagen de cristo
La vi que lloraba un día
Y golpes se daba en el pecho
Porque estaba arrepentida
Del daño que me había hecho

How can I untie this knot? How can I show this wound?
It is a pain, a harsh pain. It is work, a hard work.
چون اين گره گشايم وين ريش چهن نمايم
دردى و صعب دردى كارى و سخت كارى

An excerpt from another one of his ghazals:
My tall beloved, so flirtatious
made short work of my long story of asceticism

O heart, did you see what my love-seeking eye did to me
in my old age, after all that asceticism and learning?

I tried to conceal the sign of love beneath my cloak of pride
but my tear was a tattletale and spread my secret

Now I’m drawing a picture on water with my tears
And wondering when this metaphor of mine will become real

I fear losing my faith, for the prayer-niche of your eyebrow
takes away the presence of my prayers

I smile as I cry to myself, like a candle, and wonder
What my burning patience could do to a stone heart like yours?


الابلند عشوه گر نقش باز من                                  کوتاه کرد قصه زهد دراز من
دیدی دلا که آخر پیری و زهد و علم                    با من چه کرد دیده معشوقه باز من
گفتم به دلق زرق بپوشم نشان عشق                    غماز بود اشک و عیان کرد راز من
نقشی بر آب می‌زنم از گریه حالیا                         تا کی شود قرین حقیقت مجاز من
می‌ترسم از خرابی ایمان که می‌برد                      محراب ابروی تو حضور نماز من
بر خود چو شمع خنده زنان گریه می‌کنم           تا با تو سنگ دل چه کند سوز و ساز من

and my own…

She stabbed me, but she took the knife
Time came and took the wound
And all I have left from that night:
A scarred face like the moon




Like a Candle…

from Figs and Thistles: First Fig


My candle burns at both ends;
   It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends—
   It gives a lovely light!


Source: Poetry (June 1918).





In faithfulness to your love, I am famous like the candle
In the street of the rends, I burn all night like the candle
Day and night, sleep slips away, from my grief-stricken eyes
Sick from separation, my red eyes weep like the candle
The mountain of my patience melted like wax in your grief’s hand
Since I began to burn and melt in your love like the candle
My string of patience’s cut by the scissors of your hair
But still, in your love’s fire, I am smiling like the candle
If the horse of my rosy tear had not been so swift
How could my secret shine out everywhere just like the candle?
As ever, my poor desperate heart is occupied with you
Shedding tears of water and of flame just like the candle
Without your world-adorning beauty, my day is like the night
Within your love’s perfection, I am fading like the candle
Honor me with union for one night, o wild one
and with your visit, brighten up my house like the candle
Like the morning, your coming is just a breath away
Show your face, so I can give my soul up like the candle
In exile’s night, send me a promise of union, or else
With this fire, I’ll burn down the whole world like the candle
It’s amazing how your love lit Hafez all on fire
How can I quench my heart’s fire with tears, like the candle?




در وفای عشق تو مشهور خوبانم چو شمـع
شب نشین کوی سربازان و رندانم چو شمع
روز و شب خوابم نمیآید به چشم غم پرست
بـس که در بیماری هجر تو گریانم چو شمع
کوه صبرم نرم شد چون موم در دست غمـت
تا در آب و آتش عشقت گدازانم چو شـمـع
رشتـه صـبرم به مقراض غمت ببریده شد
همـچـنان در آتش مهر تو سوزانم چو شمع
گر کـمیت اشـک گلگونم نـبودی گرم رو
کی شدی روشن به گیتی راز پنهانم چو شمع
در میان آب و آتش همچنان سرگرم توسـت
این دل زار نزار اشـک بارانـم چو شـمـع
بی جمال عالم آرای تو روزم چون شب است
با کمال عشق تو در عین نقصانم چو شمـع
سرفرازم کن شبی از وصـل خود ای نازنین
تا مـنور گردد از دیدارت ایوانم چو شـمـع
همـچو صبحم یک نفس باقیست با دیدار تو
چـهره بنما دلبرا تا جان برافشانم چو شمع
در شـب هجران مرا پروانه وصلی فرسـت
ور نه از دردت جهانی را بسوزانم چو شمـع
آتـش مـهر تو را حافظ عجب در سر گرفت
Ibn al-Fāriḍ


If not for my sighs, these tears would drown me
If not for these tears, my sighs would scorch me


ولولا زفيري ٔاغرقتني ٔادمعي
ولولا دموعي ٔاحرقتني زفرتي



A candle is made to become entirely flame.
In that annihilating moment
it has no shadow.
It is nothing but a tongue of light
describing a refuge.
Look at this
just-finishing candle stub
as someone who is finally safe
from virtue and vice,
the pride and the shame
we claim from those.
(Coleman Barks’ “translation”)


There is a candle in the heart of man, waiting to be kindled.
In separation from the Friend, there is a cut waiting to be stitched.
O, you who are ignorant of endurance and the burning fire of love–
Love comes of its own free will, it can’t be learned in any school.



Should Love’s heart rejoice unless I burn?
For my heart is Love’s dwelling.
If You will burn Your house, burn it, Love!
Who will say, ‘It’s not allowed’?
Burn this house thoroughly!
The lover’s house improves with fire.
From now on I will make burning my aim,
From now on I will make burning my aim,
for I am like the candle: burning only makes me brighter.
Abandon sleep tonight; traverse for one night
the region of the sleepless.
Look upon these lovers who have become distraught
and like moths have died in union with the One Beloved.
Look upon this ship of God’s creatures
and see how it is sunk in Love.

Mathnawi VI, 617-623
The Rumi Collection, Edited by Kabir Helminski

O light, from seeing your beauty, my soul became candle-like
Turn my fortune so I can shed myself candle-like
The promise of the morning breeze, of joining Thee day and night
Burning, yellow, shaking, crying and humble, candle-like.
Thy flowing hair, like scissors sheer my soul at its height
In this fire of separation burn me no more, candle-like.
Pearls overflowing from the sea of my eye, fill my bosom in delight
My burning heart sent its flames blazing upward, candle-like.
Solar flares set in the celestial lantern, sooth the sight
Every morn dam my tears and shed no more, candle-like.
Thy face is spring-like, thy fire sorrows fight
How long burn in this solstice of separation, candle-like?
From the memory of thy light, every night flames take flight
If only my heart’s fire would burn my soul candle-like.
How long burn thyself Shams-e Tabrizi, thy love beaming bright?
We know of nothing other than this burning, candle-like.
(trans. by Shahriar Shahriari)



ای منور از جمالت دیده ی جانم چو شمع
از در بختم درآ تا جان بر افشانم چو شمع

از هوای خنده ی صبح وصالت روز و شب
زرد و لرزان و گدازان زار و گریانم چو شمع

زلف چون مقراض بر كش رشته جانم ببر
بیش از این در آتش هجران مسوزانم چو شمع

آستین و دامنم پر در شد از دریای عشق
تا علم زد آتش دل از گریبانم ، چو شمع

آتش خورشید را ، در مشعل سبز فلك
هر سحر از آبگیر دیده ، بنشانم چو شمع

ای رخت نوروز عالم زآتش ، جانسوز شمع
چند سوزی در شب یلدای هجرانم چو شمع

آفتاب از خاطرم ، شعله فروزد هر شبی
آتش دل گر بسوزد ، رشته ی جانم چو شمع

چند سوزی خویشتن را شمس تبریزی ز عشق
ماورای سوختن ، كاری نمیدانم چو شمع

Ana Moura


My eyes are two candles
Casting a sad light on my face
Your eyes are two candles
Casting a sad light on my face

Marked by the pains
Of longing and grief

When I hear the ringing of the bells
And the afternoon is coming to an end

I pray, out of longing for you
An “Our Father” for me

But you do not know how to pray
Nor how to ache with longing

Why do you disturb me so
Why do I want you so much?

For my despair you are like
The clouds that fly high

Every day I wait for you
Every day you stand me up


Os meus olhos são dois círios
Dando luz triste ao meu rosto
Os teus olhos são dois círios
Dando luz triste ao meu rosto
Marcado pelos martírios
Da saudade e do desgosto.

Quando oiço bater trindades
E a tarde já vai no fim

Eu peço às tuas saudades
Um padre nosso por mim.Mas não sabes fazer preces
Não tens saudades nem pranto

Por que é que tu me aborreces
Por que é que eu te quero tanto?

És para meu desespero
Como as nuvens que andam altas

Todos os dias te espero
Todos os dias me faltas.



I am not happiness, but only
The tragic substance that produces it.
In the great darkness, I am a burning flambeau
And I don’t see my own light.



Eu não sou a alegria, mas apenas
A trágica matéria que a produz.
Na grande escuridão, sou facho a arder
E não avisto minha própria luz!


(Pascoaes, 1920, p.216)



❊ ففرّوا الى الله ❊

So flee to God… (Qur’an 51:50)


اعوذ بك منك

I seek refuge in You from You (Hadith)


Flee to God’s Qur’an, take refuge in it
there with the spirits of the prophets merge.
The Book conveys the prophets’ circumstances
those fish of the pure sea of Majesty.


I long to escape the prison of my ego
and lose myself in you.


There is no salvation for the soul
but to fall in Love.
Only lovers can escape
out of these two worlds.
This was ordained in creation.
Only from the heart
can you reach the sky:
The Rose of Glory
can grow only from the heart.



( the poem inscribed on his tomb)
مژده‌ى وصل تو كو كز سر جان برخيزم
طاير قدسم و از دام جهان برخيزم
Where are the tidings of union with you, so that from life I may rise?
I am a bird of heaven, from the world’s snare I must rise
به ولاى تو كه گر بنده‌ى خويشم خوانى
از سر خواجگى كون و مكان برخيزم
I swear by your love, if you call me your slave
From the mastery of the universe I will rise
يارب از ابر هدايت برسان بارانى
پيشتر زانكه چو گردى ز ميان برخيزم
O Lord, let the cloud of guidance rain
Before that time when, like dust from the earth, I rise
بر سر تربت من با مى و مطرب بنشين
تا ببويت ز لحد رقص‌كنان برخيزم
Sit beside my grave with musician and wine
So from your scent, dancing from the dust, I may rise
خيز و بالا بنما اى بت شيرين‌حركات
كه چو حافظ ز سر جان و جهان برخيزم
 O sweetly-moving idol, rise and show me your shape
So, like Hafez, from life and world, dancing, I may rise
گرچه پيرم، تو شبى تنگ درآغوشم كش
تا سحرگه ز كنار تو جوان برخيزم
Though I am old, for one night, in your bosom hold me tight
So when morning comes, young from your embrace, I may rise

Norah Jones


 The Beatles

If you are sweet…

Some of my favorite verses of poetry…


The captive prince Abu Firas Hamadani penned this plea to his cousin,
the famous Sayf al-Dawla. The latter, however, didn’t ransom the poet,
leaving him imprisoned for years to write some of the most beautiful poetry (collected as the Rūmiyāt) of a language of incredible poets.  Maybe Sayf liked his cousin’s poetry more than he liked having him back…

In any event, as often happens with poetry of exceptional beauty that strikes a universal chord, these verses were adopted by the Sufis and attributed to various saintly figures, demonstrating the unity and universality of Love and longing in all its forms.



As long as you’re sweet, let life be bitter
As long as you’re pleased, let all men be wroth
As long as there’s a bond between me and you
Let all between me and the worlds be in ruins
If truly you love me, then all things are easy
And let all that’s over the dust, be dust



فليتك تحلو والحياة مريرة            وليتك ترضى والأنام غضاب
وليت الذي بيني وبينك عامر              وبيني وبين العالمين خراب
إذا صح منك الود فالكل هين             وكل الذي فوق التراب تراب

Hafez: The Desert of Love



Lions turn to foxes in the desert of your love
What a road! there is no danger which does not lurk there.


شیر در بادیه عشق تو روباه شود
آه از این راه که در وی خطری نیست که نیست

The ups and downs of the desert of love are a net of affliction
Were is the lion-hearted man who does not flee from affliction?


فراز و شيب  بيابان عشق دام بلاست
كجاست شير دلي كز بلانپرهيزد



In the desert of seeking, there is danger on all sides
But Hafez, the lover, walks on, happy with your friendship


در بيابان طلب گرچه ز هر سو خطريست
مي رود حافظ بيدل ز تولاى تو خوش



O friend, there are many wonders on the road of love
The doe of this desert makes the lion flee


عجايب ره عشق اى رفيق  بسيار است
زةيش اهوى اين دشت شير نز بدويد

Morning wind, speak kindly to that elegant gazelle, say,
“It was you who made me wander in mountains and deserts”


صبا به لطف بگو آن غزال رعنا را
که سر به کوه و بیابان تو داده‌ای ما را


The Ka’abah’s beauty owes an apology to its travelers
For the souls of lovers consumed in its desert


جمال كعبه مگر عذر رهروان خواد
كه جان زنده دلان سوختن در بيابانش


I say again that Hafez is not alone in this adventure
Many others have also been lost in this desert



باز گويم نه درين واقعه حافظ تنهاست
غرقه گشتند درين باديه بسياردگر


Increase me in love for you…(version 2)



Give me an excess of love for you and wonder
And have mercy on a heart scorched by a glance of your love
And if I ask to see you truly
Then allow me, graciously
And let not your answer be, “Thou shalt not see
O heart, you have promised me to be patient in loving them
So be sure to bear it do not dismay
Passion is life, so die in it lovingly.
 Your duty is to die and be absolved
 My heart, say to those ahead of me, and those behind me,
Whoever has seen the sacrifice of my sorrow
“Follow my example and listen to me
And tell the tale of my love amongst mankind “
I was alone with the Beloved and between us there was
A secret more subtle than the dawn breeze when it blows
And he allowed my eyes a glance
So I became famous, having been unknown before
I was awestruck between his beauty and majesty
And tomorrow, the tongue of my state will explain
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.”

زِدْني بفَرْطِ الحُبّ فيك تَحَيّرا          وارْحَمْ حشىً بلَظَى هواكَ تسعّرا
وإذا سألُتكَ أن أراكَ حقيقةً          فاسمَحْ ولا تجعلْ جوابي لن تَرى
يا قلبُ أنتَ وعدَتني في حُبّهمْ          صَبراً فحاذرْ أن تَضِيقَ وتَضجرا
إنَّ الغرامَ هوَ الحياةُ فمُتْ بِهِ             صَبّاً فحقّك أن تَموتَ وتُعذرا
قُل لِلّذِينَ تقدَّموا قَبلي ومَن        بَعدي ومَن أضحى لأشجاني يَرَى
عني خذوا وبي اقْتدوا وليَ اسمعوا             وتحدّثوا بصَبابتي بَينَ الوَرى
ولقد خَلَوْتُ مع الحَبيب وبَيْنَنَا              سِرٌّ أرَقّ منَ النسيمِ إذا سرى
وأباحَ طَرْفِي نَظْرْةً أمّلْتُها               فَغَدَوْتُ معروفاً وكُنْتُ مُنَكَّرا
فَدُهِشْتُ بينَ جمالِهِ وجَلالِهِ             وغدا لسانُ الحال عنّي مُخْبِرا
فأَدِرْ لِحَاظَكَ في محاسنِ وجْهه            تَلْقَى جميعَ الحُسْنِ فيه مُصَوَّرا
لو أنّ كُلّ الحُسْنِ يكمُلُ صُورةً                    ورآهُ كان مُهَلِّلاً ومُكَبِّر


Ḥallāj: Amazed by you and me…


Amazed by you and by me, O you, the desire of the desirers
You drew me closer to thee, until I thought that you were me
I vanished in ecstasy until you erased me from myself by thee
O my blessing in life and my rest after death
I have no intimacy with anyone but thee
When I’m afraid or in safety
O you, the gardens of meanings that surround all my art
If I want anything, it’s you, my utmost desire


عجبتُ منك و منـّـي يا مُنـْيـَةَ المُتـَمَنّـِي
أدنيتـَني منك حتـّـى ظننتُ أنـّك أنـّــي
وغبتُ في الوجد حتـّى أفنيتنـَي بك عنـّــي
يا نعمتي في حياتــي و راحتي بعد دفنـــي
ما لي بغيرك أُنــسٌ من حيث خوفي وأمنـي
يا من رياض معانيـهْ قد حّويْـت كل فنـّـي
وإن تمنيْت شيْــــاً فأنت كل التمنـّـــي


Blow winds, blow




Translation (a bit of license taken):

O wind of the dawn, I say to the gazelle
it only makes me thirstier, the water of this well
I have a beloved whose love lives within me
And if she likes, she walks on my cheeks as well
Her spirit is my spirit and my spirit is her spirit
If she wills, I want, and if I want, she wills



يا نَسيمَ الريح قولي لِلرَشا              لَم يَزِدني الوِردُ إلا عَطشا
لي حَبيبٌ حُبُّهُ وَسطَ الحَشا           إِن يَشَأ يَمشي عَلى خَدّي مَشى
روحُهُ روحي وَروحي روحُهُ              إِن يَشَأ شِئتُ وَإِن شِئتُ يَشا


Ibn ‘Arabi:


Lyrics from Ibn ‘Arabi’s tarjuman al-ashwaq:

ألا يا نسيم الريح بلغ مها نجد      بأني على ما تعلمون من العهد
فان كان حقا ما تقول و عندها    إليّ من الشوق المبرّح ما عندي
إليها ففي حرّ الظهيرة نلتقي    بخيمتها سرا على أصدق الوعد


O Morning breeze, go tell the gazelles of Najd
   that, “I’m true to the vow you know of”
And if what she says is true and she
   has for me the desperate longing I have
for her, then in the heat of noon we’ll meet
   in her tent secretly, with the most sincere promise





The dawn breeze of your curling tress keeps me drunk constantly
the magic of your charming eyes keeps me wasted always


After so many night vigils, O Lord, will I ever be able to light
the candle of my sight at the mihrab of your eyebrow?


The black of the tablet of my vision is precious to me
Because, for my soul, it is a copy of your black mole


If you want to adorn the whole world forever
Tell the morning wind to lift the veil from your face for a while


If you want to banish all traces of fidelity from the world
Let down your hair, and let thousands of souls fall from every strand


The morning wind and I are two poor, hopeless wanderers
I from the magic of your intoxicating eyes, and he from the scent of your hair


How great is Hafez’s focus! For nothing in this world or the next
appeared in his eye save for the dust of your street.


مدامم مست مي دارد نسيم جعد گيسويت
خرابم مي کند هر دم فريب چشم جادويت
پس از چندين شکيبايي شبي يا رب توان ديدن
که شمع ديده افروزيم در محراب ابرويت
سواد لوح بينش را عزيز از بهر آن دارم
که جان را نسخه اي باشد ز لوح خال هندويت
تو گر خواهي که جاويدان جهان يک سر بيارايي
صبا را گو که بردارد زماني برقع از رويت
و گر رسم فنا خواهي که از عالم براندازي
برافشان تا فروريزد هزاران جان ز هر مويت
من و باد صبا مسکين دو سرگردان بي حاصل
من از افسون چشمت مست و او از بوي گيسويت
زهي همت که حافظ راست از دنيي و از عقبي
نيايد هيچ در چشمش بجز خاک سر کويت





O dawn breeze, where is the friend’s place of rest?
Where is the home of that lover-slaying beauty?


ای نسیم سحر آرامگه یار کجاست
منزل آن مه عاشق کش عیار کجاست




All night I hope that the the dawn breeze will caress
this friend with a message from the friends


همه شب در این امیدم که نسیم صبحگاهی
به پیام آشنایان بنوازد آشنا را
 Coleman Barks’ “Translation”:


No one knows what makes the soul wake up
 so happy! Maybe a dawn breeze
has blown the veil from the face of God.


A thousand new moons appear.
Roses open laughing.
Hearts become perfect rubies
 like those from Badakshan.


The body turns entirely spirit.
 Leaves become branches in this wind.
Why is it now so easy to surrender,
even for those already surrendered?


There’s no answer to any of this.
No one knows the source of joy.
A poet breathes into a reed flute,
and the tip of every hair makes music.


Shams sails down clods of dirt from the roof,
and we take jobs as doorkeepers for him.


مگر این دم سر آن زلف پریشان شدهاست
که چنین مشک تتاری عبرافشان شده است
مگر از چهره او باد صبا پرده ربود
که هزاران قمر غیب درخشان شده است
هست جانی که ز بوی خوش او شادان نیست
گر چه جان بو نبرد کو ز چه شادان شده است
ای بسا شاد گلی کز دم حق خندان است
لیک هر جان بنداند ز چه خندان شده است
آفتاب رخش امروز زهی خوش که بتافت
که هزاران دل از او لعل بدخشان شده است
عاشق آخر ز چه رو تا به ابد دل ننهد
بر کسی کز لطفش تن همگی جان شده است
مگرش دل سحری دید بدان سان که وی است
که از آن دیدنش امروز بدین سان شده است
تا بدیده است دل آن حسن پری زاد مرا
شیشه بر دست گرفته است و پری خوان شده است
بر درخت تن اگر باد خوشش می‌نوزد
پس دو صد برگ دو صد شاخ چه لرزان شده است
بهر هر کشته او جان ابد گر نبود
جان سپردن بر عاشق ز چه آسان شده است
از حیات و خبرش باخبران بی‌خبرند
که حیات و خبرش پرده ایشان شده است
گر نه در نای دلی مطرب عشقش بدمید
هر سر موی چو سرنای چه نالان شده است
شمس تبریز ز بام ار نه کلوخ اندازد
سوی دل پس ز چه جان‌هاش چو دربان شده است




Translation of lyrics:

I wrote your name in the wind
Convinced that I was writing it
Upon the page of oblivion
That was lost in the wind (x 2)
And when I  saw it still buried
In the dust of the road
I thought my heart was free
From the bonds of your affection (x 2)
Poor me, I had no idea
That just like me
The wind would fall in love
With that name of yours
And as the wind tosses and turns
so does my torment
I want to forget you, believe me
But there is more and more wind


O wind of the dawn
Blow into my breast
Make the embers of my heart
Rise up from their death


O wind of the dawn
Blow into my breast
Sway my veins and let them shake
Love’s birds out from their nests


O wind of the dawn
Blow into my breast
Make my blood ripple
your reflection with your breath
O wind of the dawn
my heart’s caught in your grasp
your spirit’s within
whirling round inside it trapped


You can’t hold it in
and I can’t give it back
whisper something in my ear
take my soul with each gasp



Cristina Branco and Hafez

Cristina Branco

“Vida Triste”


Condemned to live sad
Is he who loves much.
You, my heart, never withstood
The love that the pain inflames.

Again my tortured heart
Sought shelter in thy breast, uselessly;
No one will console the burning thirst
Nor is it is satisfied with the delights of passion.

And always, for any act,
There is a price of suffering,
Until the sweetness of the last touch
Eventually dies in regret.

And like the bodies snared
One day everything goes and there is only loneliness.
Perhaps will there be someone to kill
the fire of this damned passion?
I know love is a sin
So I  also cursed the heavens
that I was tied for life
to one who deceived me

Love never failed me
With tenderness and embraces
But freed my longings,
Never such remembered.

And always, for any act,
There is a price of suffering,
Until the sweetness of the last touch
Eventually dies in regret.

And like the bodies snared
One day everything goes and there is only loneliness.
Perhaps will there be someone to kill
the fire of this damned passion?




Condenado a viver triste
É sina de quem muito ama.
Nunca tu, meu coração, resististe
Ao amor que a dor inflama.

Mais uma vez meu torturado coração
Buscou abrigo no teu peito, inutilmente;
Não há quem lhe console a sede ardente
Nem ele se farta das delícias da paixão.

E sempre, para qualquer acto,
Há que pagar com o sofrimento,
Até que a doçura do último tacto
Acabe por morrer num lamento.

Por mais que os corpos se enlacem
Um dia tudo passa e só fica a solidão.
Haverá porventura alguém
que mate o fogo de tão maldita paixão?
Eu sei que amar é pecado
Por isso também a mim o céu castigou
Fiquei pra vida amarrado
A quem sempre me enganou

Jamais o amor me faltou
Com ternuras e afagos
Mas libertar meus anseios,
Nunca de tal se lembrou.

E sempre, para qualquer acto,
Há que pagar com o sofrimento
Até que a doçura do último tacto
Acabe por morrer num lamento.

Por mais que os corpos se enlacem,
Um dia tudo passa e só fica a solidão.
Haverá alguém capaz de matar
O fogo de tão maldita paixão?



I am the friend of the sweet face, and of the heart-snatching hair
I’m infatuated with the intoxicated eye and pure, unmixed wine


You asked, “Say one word about the secret of the covenant of Alast.”
“Once I’ve drunk two cups of wine, then I’ll tell you,” I replied.


I am the Paradisal Adam, but in this worldly journey
Now I’m a captive of the beauty of youth


In love, there is no escape from pain and suffering
I am standing like the candle, don’t try to scare me with fire


Shiraz is the mine of ruby lips and the quarry of beauty
Because of that, a poor jeweler like me is so distraught


I’ve seen so many drunken eyes in this city, I think
 I’m tipsy, although I’ve had nothing to drink


From all six directions, it is a city full of lovely glances
And I’ve nothing if I don’t buy all six of them


If Fortune should be so kind as to guide me to the Friend
Even the Houri’s hair will sweep the sweet dust from off my bed


Hafiz, my nature’s like a radiant, hopeful bride
But no mirror have I to see myself, and because of that I sigh

Dick Davis’ translation:

My love’s for pretty faces,
For heart-bewitching hair;
I’m crazy for good wine,
A languorous, drunk stare …

In love there’s no escaping
The burning of desire;
I stand here like a candle –
Don’t scare me with your fire.

I am a man from heaven,
But on this path I see
My love of youth and beauty
Have made a slave of me.

If Fate will help me, I
Will take myself elsewhere –
My bed will be swept clean
By some sweet houri’s hair.

Shiraz is like a mine
Of ruby lips, a store
Of loveliness … and I’m
A jeweler who’s dirt-poor.

I’ve seen so many drunk
Eyes in this town, I think
I’m drunk, although I swear
I’ve had no wine to drink.

You asked me to explain
Eternity for you –
Well certainly, when I
Have downed a drink or two.

Hafez, my nature’s like
A hopeful bride, but I
Lack mirrors to array
Myself – that’s why I sigh.


         من دوستدار روی خوش و موی دلکشم

مدهوش چشم مست و می صاف بی‌غشم

         گفتی ز سر عهد ازل یک سخن بگو

آن گه بگویمت که دو پیمانه درکشم

         من آدم بهشتیم اما در این سفر

حالی اسیر عشق جوانان مه وشم

         در عاشقی گزیر نباشد ز ساز و سوز

استاده‌ام چو شمع مترسان ز آتشم

         شیراز معدن لب لعل است و کان حسن

من جوهری مفلسم ایرا مشوشم

         از بس که چشم مست در این شهر دیده‌ام

حقا که می نمی‌خورم اکنون و سرخوشم

         شهریست پر کرشمه حوران ز شش جهت

چیزیم نیست ور نه خریدار هر ششم

         بخت ار مدد دهد که کشم رخت سوی دوست

گیسوی حور گرد فشاند ز مفرشم

         حافظ عروس طبع مرا جلوه آرزوست

آیینه‌ای ندارم از آن آه می‌کشم

My art is loving that beauty


Go tell the faqih for me
My art is loving that beauty


My drink is with him, from the glass
and the Ḥaḍra, with those gathered round
and my dear friends around me
lifted all my burdens from me


Go tell the faqih for me
My art is loving that beauty


Which Way do you think I follow?
The Law revives me
and the Reality annihilates me
so know that I am a Sunni


Go tell the faqih for me
My art is loving that beauty


Know there’s no one at home but you
So cut this talk short.
Come onto the field with me
Trust me, don’t push me away


Go tell the faqih for me
My art is loving that beauty


If you could see me in my home
When we raise the curtains
My love’s naked with me alone
I’m happy in this union


Go tell the faqih for me
My art is loving that beauty


So leave me, spare me your delusions
for you’re the slave of your ego
and this world is your bedroom
wake up, you’ll see my beauty


Go tell the faqih for me
My art is loving that beauty


-Abu’l Ḥasan ash-Shushtarī


قُولُوا للْفَقِيهْ عَنِّي       عِشْقُ ذَا المليحْ فَنِّي
وشُرْبِي مَعُو بالْكاسْ
والْحَضْرَهْ مَعَ الْجَلاَّس
وحَوْلِي رِفاقْ أكْياسْ
قد شالُوا الْكَلَفْ عنِّي
قُولُوا للفقيه عَني         عِشْقُ ذا المليحْ فنِّي
أيَّ مَذْهَبٍ تَدْرِينِي
الشَّرِيعَةُ تُحْيِيني
والحقِيقهْ تُفْنيني
واعْلَم أنَّني سُنِّي
قُولُوا للفقيه عَني      عِشْقُ ذا المليحْ فنِّي
وعْلَم أنْ ليْسَ في الدَّار
غيركْ فاقطعِ الأخبارْ
وادخُلْ معِي المِضْمَار
أو مَوْر لا تُصَدِّعْني
قُولُوا للفقيه عَني       عِشْقُ ذا المليحْ فنِّي
لَوْ تَرانِي في دارِي
وحِينْ نَرْفَعُ اسْتارِي
وحِبي مَعي عَارِي
بِوَصْلُوا يُمَتّعْنِي
قُولُوا للفقيه عَني          عِشْقُ ذا المليحْ فنِّي
فَدَعني ومِنْ وهْمَكْ
فأنْتَ غُلام نَفْسَكْ
هذا الْكَوْن هُ دارْ نُوْمكْ
إِستيْقظْ تَرَى حُسْنِي
قُولُوا للفقيه عَني          عِشْقُ ذا المليحْ فنِّي…


Thou that wouldst describe beauty,
Here is something of her brightness
Take it from me. It is my art.
Think it not idle vanity.


“Laylā” by Aḥmad al-’Alāwī



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