What, without asking, hither hurried Whence? And, without asking, Whither hurried hence! Oh, many a Cup of this forbidden Wine Must drown the memory of that insolence!

Up from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gate I rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate, And many a Knot unravel'd by the Road; But not the Master-knot of Human Fate.

There was the Door to which I found no Key; There was the Veil through which I might not see: Some little talk awhile of ME and THEE There was—and then no more of THEE and ME.

Earth could not answer; nor the Seas that mourn In flowing Purple, of their Lord forlorn; Nor rolling Heaven, with all his Signs reveal'd And hidden by the sleeve of Night and Morn.

Then of the THEE IN ME who works behind The Veil, I lifted up my hands to find A lamp amid the Darkness; and I heard, As from Without—"THE ME WITHIN THEE BLIND!"

Then to the Lip of this poor earthen Urn I lean'd, the Secret of my Life to learn: And Lip to Lip it murmur'd—"While you live, Drink!—for, once dead, you never shall return."

I think the Vessel, that with fugitive Articulation answer'd, once did live, And drink; and Ah! the passive Lip I kiss'd, How many Kisses might it take—and give!

For I remember stopping by the way To watch a Potter thumping his wet Clay: And with its all-obliterated Tongue It murmur'd—"Gently, Brother, gently, pray!"

And has not such a story from of Old Down Man's successive generations roll'd Of such a clod of saturated Earth Cast by the Maker into Human mould?

And not a drop that from our Cups we throw For Earth to drink of, but may steal below To quench the fire of Anguish in some Eye There hidden—far beneath, and long ago.

As then the Tulip for her morning sup Of Heav'nly Vintage from the soil looks up, Do you devoutly do the like, till Heav'n To Earth invert you—like an empty Cup.

Perplext no more with Human or Divine, To-morrow's tangle to the winds resign, And lose your fingers in the tresses of The Cypress-slender Minister of Wine.

And if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press, End in what All begins and ends in—Yes; Think then you are To-day what Yesterday You were—To-morrow you shall not be less.

So when that Angel of the darker Drink At last shall find you by the river-brink, And, offering his Cup, invite your Soul Forth to your Lips to quaff—you shall not shrink.

Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside, And naked on the Air of Heaven ride, Were't not a Shame—were't not a Shame for him In this clay carcase crippled to abide?

'Tis but a Tent where takes his one day's rest A Sultan to the realm of Death addrest; The Sultan rises, and the dark Ferrash Strikes, and prepares it for another Guest

And fear not lest Existence closing your Account, and mine, should know the like no more; The Eternal Saki from the Bowl has pour'd Millions of Bubbles like us, and will pour.

When You and I behind the Veil are past, Oh, but the long, long while the World shall last, Which of our Coming and Departure heeds As the Sea's self should heed a pebble-cast.

A Moment's Halt—a momentary taste Of Being from the Well amid the Waste— And Lo!—the phantom Caravan has reach'd The Nothing it set out from—Oh, make haste!

Would you that spangle of Existence spend About THE SECRET—quick about it, Friend! A Hair perhaps divides the False and True— And upon what, prithee, may life depend?

A Hair perhaps divides the False and True; Yes; and a single Alif were the clue— Could you but find it—to the Treasure-house, And peradventure to THE MASTER too;

Whose secret Presence, through Creation's veins Running Quicksilver-like eludes your pains; Taking all shapes from Mah to Mahi; and They change and perish all—but He remains;

A moment guess'd—then back behind the Fold Immerst of Darkness round the Drama roll'd Which, for the Pastime of Eternity, He doth Himself contrive, enact, behold.

But if in vain, down on the stubborn floor Of Earth, and up to Heav'n's unopening Door, You gaze To-day, while You are You—how then To-morrow, when You shall be You no more?

Waste not your Hour, nor in the vain pursuit Of This and That endeavor and dispute; Better be jocund with the fruitful Grape Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit.

You know, my Friends, with what a brave Carouse I made a Second Marriage in my house; Divorced old barren Reason from my Bed, And took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse.

For "Is" and "Is-not" though with Rule and Line And "Up-and-down" by Logic I define, Of all that one should care to fathom, I Was never deep in anything but—Wine.

Ah, but my Computations, People say, Reduced the Year to better reckoning?—Nay, 'Twas only striking from the Calendar Unborn To-morrow, and dead Yesterday.

And lately, by the Tavern Door agape, Came shining through the Dusk an Angel Shape Bearing a Vessel on his Shoulder; and He bid me taste of it; and 'twas—the Grape!

The Grape that can with Logic absolute The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects confute: The Sovereign Alchemist that in a trice Life's leaden metal into Gold transmute:

The mighty Mahmud, Allah-breathing Lord, That all the misbelieving and black Horde Of Fears and Sorrows that infest the Soul Scatters before him with his whirlwind Sword.

Why, be this Juice the growth of God, who dare Blaspheme the twisted tendril as a Snare? A Blessing, we should use it, should we not? And if a Curse—why, then, Who set it there?

I must abjure the Balm of Life, I must, Scared by some After-reckoning ta'en on trust, Or lured with Hope of some Diviner Drink, To fill the Cup—when crumbled into Dust!

Oh threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise! One thing at least is certain—This Life flies; One thing is certain and the rest is Lies; The Flower that once has blown forever dies.

Strange, is it not? that of the myriads who Before us pass'd the door of Darkness through, Not one returns to tell us of the Road, Which to discover we must travel too.

The Revelations of Devout and Learn'd Who rose before us, and as Prophets burn'd, Are all but Stories, which, awoke from Sleep They told their comrades, and to Sleep return'd.

I sent my Soul through the Invisible, Some letter of that After-life to spell: And by and by my Soul return'd to me, And answered, "I Myself am Heav'n and Hell:"

Heav'n but the Vision of fulfill'd Desire, And Hell the Shadow from a Soul on fire, Cast on the Darkness into which Ourselves, So late emerged from, shall so soon expire.

We are no other than a moving row Of Magic Shadow-shapes that come and go Round with the Sun-illumined Lantern held In Midnight by the Master of the Show;

But helpless Pieces of the Game He plays Upon this Checker-board of Nights and Days; Hither and thither moves, and checks, and slays, And one by one back in the Closet lays.

The Ball no question makes of Ayes and Noes, But Here or There as strikes the Player goes; And He that toss'd you down into the Field, He knows about it all—HE knows—HE knows!

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.

And that inverted Bowl they call the Sky, Whereunder crawling coop'd we live and die, Lift not your hands to It for help—for It As impotently moves as you or I.

With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man knead, And there of the Last Harvest sow'd the Seed: And the first Morning of Creation wrote What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.

Yesterday This Day's Madness did prepare; To-morrow's Silence, Triumph, or Despair: Drink! for you know not whence you came, nor why: Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.

I tell you this—When, started from the Goal, Over the flaming shoulders of the Foal Of Heav'n Parwin and Mushtari they flung, In my predestined Plot of Dust and Soul

The Vine had struck a fibre: which about If clings my Being—let the Dervish flout; Of my Base metal may be filed a Key, That shall unlock the Door he howls without.

And this I know: whether the one True Light Kindle to Love, or Wrath-consume me quite, One Flash of It within the Tavern caught Better than in the Temple lost outright.

What! out of senseless Nothing to provoke A conscious Something to resent the yoke Of unpermitted Pleasure, under pain Of Everlasting Penalties, if broke!

What! from his helpless Creature be repaid Pure Gold for what he lent him dross-allay'd— Sue for a Debt he never did contract, And cannot answer—Oh the sorry trade!

Oh Thou, who didst with pitfall and with gin Beset the Road I was to wander in, Thou wilt not with Predestined Evil round Enmesh, and then impute my Fall to Sin!

O Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make, And ev'n with Paradise devise the Snake: For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man Is blacken'd—Man's forgiveness give—and take!

As under cover of departing Day Slunk hunger-stricken Ramazan away, Once more within the Potter's house alone I stood, surrounded by the Shapes of Clay.

Shapes of all Sorts and Sizes, great and small, That stood along the floor and by the wall; And some loquacious Vessels were; and some Listen'd perhaps, but never talk'd at all.

Said one among them—"Surely not in vain My substance of the common Earth was ta'en And to this Figure moulded, to be broke, Or trampled back to shapeless Earth again."

Then said a Second—"Ne'er a peevish Boy Would break the Bowl from which he drank in joy; And He that with his hand the Vessel made Will surely not in after Wrath destroy."

After a momentary silence spake Some Vessel of a more ungainly Make; "They sneer at me for leaning all awry: What! did the Hand then of the Potter shake?"

Whereat some one of the loquacious Lot— I think a Sufi pipkin—waxing hot— "All this of Pot and Potter—Tell me, then, Who is the Potter, pray, and who the Pot?"

"Why," said another, "some there are who tell Of one who threatens he will toss to Hell The luckless Pots he marr'd in making—Pish! He's a Good Fellow, and 't will all be well."

"Well," murmur'd one, "let whoso make or buy, My Clay with long Oblivion is gone dry: But fill me with the old familiar Juice, Methinks I might recover by and by."

So while the Vessels one by one were speaking, The little Moon look'd in that all were seeking: And then they jogg'd each other, "Brother! Brother! Now for the Potter's shoulder-knot a-creaking!"

Ah, with the Grape my fading Life provide, And wash the Body whence the Life has died, And lay me, shrouded in the living Leaf, By some not unfrequented Garden-side.

That ev'n my buried Ashes such a snare Of Vintage shall fling up into the Air As not a True-believer passing by But shall be overtaken unaware.

Indeed the Idols I have loved so long Have done my credit in this World much wrong: Have drown'd my Glory in a shallow Cup, And sold my Reputation for a Song.

Indeed, indeed, Repentance oft before I swore—but was I sober when I swore? And then and then came Spring, and Rose-in-hand My threadbare Penitence apieces tore.

And much as Wine has play'd the Infidel, And robb'd me of my Robe of Honor—Well, I wonder often what the Vintners buy One half so precious as the stuff they sell.

Yet ah, that Spring should vanish with the Rose! That Youth's sweet-scented manuscript should close! The Nightingale that in the branches sang, Ah whence, and whither flown again, who knows!

Would but the Desert of the Fountain yield One glimpse—if dimly, yet indeed, reveal'd, To which the fainting Traveller might spring, As springs the trampled herbage of the field!

Would but some winged Angel ere too late Arrest the yet unfolded Roll of Fate, And make the stern Recorder otherwise Enregister, or quite obliterate!

Ah, Love! could you and I with Him conspire To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire, Would not we shatter it to bits—and then Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!

Yon rising Moon that looks for us again— How oft hereafter will she wax and wane; How oft hereafter rising look for us Through this same Garden—and for one in vain!

And when like her, oh Saki, you shall pass Among the Guests Star-scatter'd on the Grass, And in your joyous errand reach the spot Where I made One—turn down an empty Glass!



THE DIVAN

BY HAFIZ

[Translation by H. Bicknell]



NOTE

The reader will be struck with the apparent want of unity in many of the Odes. The Orientals compare each couplet to a single pearl and the entire "Ghazal," or Ode, to a string of pearls. It is the rhyme, not necessarily the sense, which links them together. Hence the single pearls or couplets may often be arranged in various orders without injury to the general effect; and it would probably be impossible to find two manuscripts either containing the same number of Odes, or having the same couplets following each other in the same order.



INTRODUCTION

We are told in the Persian histories that when Tamerlane, on his victorious progress through the East, had reached Shiraz, he halted before the gates of the city and sent two of his followers to search in the bazar for a certain dervish Muhammad Shams-ad-din, better known to the world by the name of Hafiz. And when this man of religion, wearing the simple woollen garment of a Sufi, was brought into the presence of the great conqueror, he was nothing abashed at the blaze of silks and jewelry which decorated the pavilion where Tamerlane sat in state. And Tamerlane, meeting the poet with a frown of anger, said, "Art not thou the insolent verse-monger who didst offer my two great cities Samarkand and Bokhara for the black mole upon thy lady's cheek?" "It is true," replied Hafiz calmly, smiling, "and indeed my munificence has been so great throughout my life, that it has left me destitute, so that I shall be hereafter dependent upon thy generosity for a livelihood." The reply of the poet, as well as his imperturbable self-possession, pleased the Asiatic Alexander, and he dismissed Hafiz with a liberal present.

This story, we are told, cannot be true, for Tamerlane did not reach Shiraz until after the death of the greatest of Persian lyric poets; but if it is not true in fact, it is true in spirit, and gives the real key to the character of Hafiz. For we must look upon Hafiz as one of the few poets in the world who utters an unbroken strain of joy and contentment. His poverty was to him a constant fountain of satisfaction, and he frankly took the natural joys of life as they came, supported under every vicissitude by his religious sense of the goodness and kindliness of the One God, manifested in everything in the world that was sweet and genial, and beautiful to behold. It is strange that we have to go to the literature of Persia to find a poet whose deep religious convictions were fully reconciled with the theory of human existence which was nothing more or less than an optimistic hedonism. There is nothing parallel to this in classic literature. The greatest of Roman Epicureans, the materialist, whose maxim was: enjoy the present for there is no God, and no to-morrow, speaks despairingly of that drop of bitterness, which rises in the fountain of Delight and brings torture, even amid the roses of the feast. It is with mocking irony that Dante places Epicurus in the furnace-tombs of his Inferno amid those heresiarchs who denied the immortality of the soul. Hafiz was an Epicurean without the atheism or the despair of Epicurus. The roses in his feast are ever fresh and sweet and there is nothing of bitterness in the perennial fountain of his Delight. This unruffled serenity, this joyful acceptance of material existence and its pleasures are not in the Persian poet the result of the carelessness and shallowness of Horace, or the cold-blooded worldliness and sensuality of Martial. The theory of life which Hafiz entertained was founded upon the relation of the human soul to God. The one God of Sufism was a being of exuberant benignity, from whose creative essence proceeded the human soul, whose experiences on earth were intended to fit it for re-entrance into the circle of light and re-absorption into the primeval fountain of being. In accordance with the beautiful and pathetic imagery of the Mystic, life was merely a journey of many stages, and every manifestation of life which the traveller met on the high road was a manifestation and a gift of God Himself. Every stage on the journey towards God which the soul made in its religious experience was like a wayside inn in which to rest awhile before resuming the onward course. The pleasures of life, all that charmed the eye, all that gratified the senses, every draught that intoxicated, and every fruit that pleased the palate, were, in the pantheistic doctrine of the Sufi considered as equally good, because God was in each of them, and to partake of them was therefore to be united more closely with God. Never was a theology so well calculated to put to rest the stings of doubt or the misgivings of the pleasure-seeker. This theology is of the very essence of Hafiz's poetry. It is in full reliance on this interpretation of the significance of human existence that Hafiz faces the fierce Tamerlane with a placid smile, plunges without a qualm into the deepest abysses of pleasure, finds in the love-song of the nightingale the voice of God, and in the bright eyes of women and the beaker brimming with crimson wine the choicest sacraments of life, the holiest and the most sublime intermediaries between divine and human life.

It is this that makes Hafiz almost the only poet of unadulterated gladsomeness that the world has ever known. There is no shadow in his sky, no discord in his music, no bitterness in his cup. He passes through life like a happy pilgrim, singing all the way, mounting in his own way from strength to strength, sure of a welcome when he reaches the goal, contented with himself, because every manifestation of life of which he is conscious must be the stirrings within him of that divinity of which he is a portion. When we have thus spoken of Hafiz we have said almost all that is known of the Persian lyric poet, for to know Hafiz we must read his verses, whose magic charm is as great for Europeans as for Asiatics. The endless variety of his expressions, the deep earnestness of his convictions, the persistent gayety of his tone, are qualities of irresistible attractiveness. Even to this day his tomb is visited as the Mecca of literary pilgrims, and his numbers are cherished in the memory and uttered on the tongue of all educated Persians. The particulars of his life may be briefly epitomized as follows: He was born at Shiraz in the early part of the fourteenth century, dying in the year 1388. The name Hafiz means, literally, the man who remembers, and was applied to himself by Hafiz from the fact that he became a professor of the Mohammedan scriptures, and for this purpose had committed to memory the text of the Koran. His manner of life was not approved of by the dervishes of the monastic college in which he taught, and he satirizes his colleagues in revenge for their animadversions. The whole Mohammedan world hailed with delight the lyrics which Hafiz published to the world, and kings and rulers vied with each other in making offers to him of honors and hospitality. At one time he started for India on the invitation of a great Southern Prince, who sent a vessel to meet him on the way, but the hardships of the sea were too severe for him, and he made his way back to Shiraz without finishing his journey.

His out-and-out pantheism, as well as his manner of life, caused him at his death to be denied burial in consecrated ground. The ecclesiastical authorities were, however, induced to relent in their plan of excommunication at the dictates of a passage from the poet's writings, which was come upon by opening the book at random. The passage ran as follows: "Turn not thy feet from the bier of Hafiz, for though immersed in sin, he will be admitted into Paradise." And so he rests in the cemetery at Shiraz, where the nightingales are singing and the roses bloom the year through, and the doves gather with low murmurs amid the white stones of the sacred enclosure. The poets of nature, the mystical pantheist, the joyous troubadour of life, Hafiz, in the naturalness and spontaneity of his poetry, and in the winning sweetness of his imagery, occupies a unique place in the literature of the world, and has no rival in his special domain.



FRAGMENT BY HAFIZ

In Praise of His Verses.

The beauty of these verses baffles praise: What guide is needed to the solar blaze? Extol that artist by whose pencil's aid The virgin, Thought, so richly is arrayed. For her no substitute can reason show, Nor any like her human judgment know. This verse, a miracle, or magic white— Brought down some voice from Heaven, or Gabriel bright? By me as by none else are secrets sung, No pearls of poesy like mine are strung.



THE DIVAN



I

"Ala ya ayyuha's-Saki!"—pass round and offer thou the bowl, For love, which seemed at first so easy, has now brought trouble to my soul.

With yearning for the pod's aroma, which by the East that lock shall spread From that crisp curl of musky odor, how plenteously our hearts have bled!

Stain with the tinge of wine thy prayer-mat, if thus the aged Magian bid, For from the traveller from the Pathway[1] no stage nor usage can be hid.

Shall my beloved one's house delight me, when issues ever and anon From the relentless bell the mandate: "'Tis time to bind thy litters on"?

The waves are wild, the whirlpool dreadful, the shadow of the night steals o'er, How can my fate excite compassion in the light-burdened of the shore?

Each action of my froward spirit has won me an opprobrious name; Can any one conceal the secret which the assembled crowds proclaim?

If Joy be thy desire, O Hafiz, From Him far distant never dwell. "As soon as thou hast found thy Loved one, Bid to the world a last farewell."



II

Thou whose features clearly-beaming make the moon of Beauty bright, Thou whose chin contains a well-pit[2] which to Loveliness gives light.

When, O Lord! shall kindly Fortune, sating my ambition, pair This my heart of tranquil nature and thy wild and ruffled hair?

Pining for thy sight my spirit trembling on my lip doth wait: Forth to speed it, back to lead it, speak the sentence of its fate.

Pass me with thy skirt uplifted from the dusty bloody ground: Many who have been thy victims dead upon this path are found.

How this heart is anguish-wasted let my heart's possessor know: Friends, your souls and mine contemplate, equal by their common woe.

Aught of good accrues to no one witched by thy Narcissus eye: Ne'er let braggarts vaunt their virtue, if thy drunken orbs are nigh.

Soon my Fortune sunk in slumber shall her limbs with vigor brace: Dashed upon her eye is water, sprinkled by thy shining face.

Gather from thy cheek a posy, speed it by the flying East; Sent be perfume to refresh me from thy garden's dust at least.

Hafiz offers a petition, listen, and "Amen" reply: "On thy sugar-dropping rubies let me for life's food rely."

Many a year live on and prosper, Sakis of the court of Jem,[3] E'en though I, to fill my wine-cup, never to your circle come.

East wind, when to Yazd thou wingest, say thou to its sons from me: "May the head of every ingrate ball-like 'neath your mall-bat be!"

"What though from your dais distant, near it by my wish I seem; Homage to your Ring I render, and I make your praise my theme."

Shah of Shahs, of lofty planet, Grant for God what I implore; Let me, as the sky above thee, Kiss the dust which strews thy floor.



V

Up, Saki!—let the goblet flow; Strew with dust the head of our earthly woe!

Give me thy cup; that, joy-possessed, I may tear this azure cowl from my breast,[4]

The wise may deem me lost to shame, But no care have I for renown or name.

Bring wine!—how many a witless head By the wind of pride has with dust been spread!

My bosom's fumes, my sighs so warm, Have inflamed yon crude and unfeeling swarm.[5]

This mad heart's secret, well I know, Is beyond the thoughts of both high and low.

E'en by that sweetheart charmed am I, Who once from my heart made sweetness fly.

Who that my Silvern Tree hath seen, Would regard the cypress that decks the green?[6]

In grief be patient, Night and day, Till thy fortune, Hafiz, Thy wish obey.



VI

My heart no longer brooks my hand: sages, aid for God my woe! Else, alas! my secret-deep soon the curious world must know.

The bark we steer has stranded: O breeze auspicious swell: We yet may see once more the Friend we love so well.

The ten days' favor of the Sphere—magic is; a tale which lies! Thou who wouldst befriend thy friends, seize each moment ere it flies.

At night, 'mid wine and flowers, the bulbul tuned his song: "Bring thou the morning bowl: prepare, ye drunken throng!"

Sikander's mirror, once so famed, is the wine-filled cup: behold All that haps in Dara's realm glassed within its wondrous mould.[7]

O bounteous man, since Heaven sheds o'er thee blessings mild, Inquire, one day at least, how fares Misfortune's child.

What holds in peace this twofold world, let this twofold sentence show: "Amity to every friend, courtesy to every foe."

Upon the way of honor, impeded was my range; If this affect thee, strive my destiny to change.

That bitter, which the Sufi styled "Mother of all woes that be,"[8] Seems, with maiden's kisses weighed, better and more sweet to me.

Seek drunkenness and pleasure till times of strait be o'er: This alchemy of life can make the beggar Kore.[9]

Submit; or burn thou taper-like e'en from jealousy o'er-much: Adamant no less than wax, melts beneath that charmer's touch.

When fair ones talk in Persian, the streams of life out-well: This news to pious Pirs, my Saki, haste to tell.

Since Hafiz, not by his own choice, This his wine-stained cowl did win, Shaikh, who hast unsullied robes, Hold me innocent of sin.[10]

Arrayed in youthful splendor, the orchard smiles again; News of the rose enraptures the bulbul of sweet strain.

Breeze, o'er the meadow's children, when thy fresh fragrance blows, Salute for me the cypress, the basil, and the rose.

If the young Magian[11] dally with grace so coy and fine, My eye shall bend their fringes to sweep the house of wine.

O thou whose bat of amber hangs o'er a moon below,[12] Deal not to me so giddy, the anguish of a blow.

I fear that tribe of mockers who topers' ways impeach, Will part with their religion the tavern's goal to reach.

To men of God be friendly: in Noah's ark was earth[13] Which deemed not all the deluge one drop of water worth.

As earth, two handfuls yielding, shall thy last couch supply, What need to build thy palace, aspiring to the sky?

Flee from the house of Heaven, and ask not for her bread: Her goblet black shall shortly her every guest strike dead.[14]

To thee, my Moon of Kanaan, the Egyptian throne pertains; At length has come the moment that thou shouldst quit thy chains.

I know not what dark projects those pointed locks design, That once again in tangles their musky curls combine.

Be gay, drink wine, and revel; But not, like others, care, O Hafiz, from the Koran To weave a wily snare!



XII

Oh! where are deeds of virtue and this frail spirit where? How wide the space that sunders the bounds of Here and There!

Can toping aught in common with works and worship own? Where is regard for sermons, where is the rebeck's Tone?[15]

My heart abhors the cloister, and the false cowl its sign: Where is the Magian's cloister, and where is his pure wine?

'Tis fled: may memory sweetly mind me of Union's days! Where is that voice of anger, where those coquettish ways?

Can a foe's heart be kindled by the friend's face so bright? Where is a lamp unlighted, and the clear Day-star's light?

As dust upon thy threshold supplies my eyes with balm, If I forsake thy presence, where can I hope for calm?

Turn from that chin's fair apple; a pit is on the way. To what, O heart, aspir'st thou? Whither thus quickly? Say!

Seek not, O friend, in Hafiz Patience, nor rest from care: Patience and rest—what are they? Where is calm slumber, where?



XIV

At eve a son of song—his heart be cheerful long!— Piped on his vocal reed a soul-inflaming lay.

So deeply was I stirred, that melody once heard, That to my tearful eyes the things of earth grew gray.

With me my Saki was, and momently did he At night the sun of Dai[16] by lock and cheek display.

When he perceived my wish, he filled with wine the bowl; Then said I to that youth whose track was Fortune's way:

"Saki, from Being's prison deliverance did I gain, When now and now the cup thou lit'st with cheerful ray.

"God guard thee here below from all the haps of woe; God in the Seat of Bliss reward thee on His day!"

When Hafiz rapt has grown, How, at one barleycorn, Should he appraise the realm, E'en of Kaus the Kay?[17]



XVI

I said: "O Monarch of the lovely, a stranger seeks thy grace this day." I heard: "The heart's deceitful guidance inclines the stranger from his way."

Exclaimed I then: "One moment tarry!" "Nay," was the answer, "let me go; How can the home-bred child be troubled by stories of a stranger's woe?"

Shall one who, gently nurtured, slumbers with royal ermine for a bed, "Care if on rocks or thorns reposing the stranger rests his weary head?"

O thou whose locks hold fast on fetters so many a soul known long ago, How strange that musky mole and charming upon thy cheek of vermil glow!

Strange is that ant-like down's appearance circling the oval of thy face; Yet musky shade is not a stranger within the Hall which paintings grace.[18]

A crimson tint, from wine reflected gleams in that face of moonlight sheen; E'en as the bloom of syrtis, strangely, o'er clusters of the pale Nasrin.[19]

I said: "O thou, whose lock so night-black is evening in the stranger's sight, Be heedful if, at break of morning, the stranger sorrow for his plight."

"Hafiz," the answer was, "familiars Stand in amaze at my renown; It is no marvel if a stranger In weariness and grief sit down."



XVII

'Tis morn; the clouds a ceiling make: The morn-cup, mates, the morn-cup take!

Drops of dew streak the tulip's cheek; The wine-bowl, friends, the wine-bowl seek

The greensward breathes a gale divine; Drink, therefore, always limpid wine.

The Flower her emerald throne displays: Bring wine that has the ruby's blaze

Again is closed the vintner's store, "Open, Thou Opener of the door!"[20]

While smiles on us the season's boon, I marvel that they close so soon.

Thy lips have salt-rights, 'tis confessed, O'er wounds upon the fire-burnt breast.

Hafiz, let not Thy courage fail! Fortune, thy charmer Shall unveil.



XIX

Lo! from thy love's enchanting bowers Rizvan's bright gardens fresher grow;[21] From the fierce heat thine absence kindles, Gehenna's flames intenser glow.

To thy tall form and cheek resplendent, as to a place of refuge, fleet Heaven and the Tuba-tree, and find there—"Happiness—and a fair retreat."[22]

When nightly the celestial river glides through the garden of the skies, As my own eye, it sees in slumber, nought but thy drunk narcissus eyes.

Each section of the spring-tide's volume makes a fresh comment on thy name, Each portal of the Empyrean murmurs the title of thy fame.

My heart has burned, but to ambition, the aim, still wished for, is denied: These tears that tinged with blood are flowing, if I could reach it, would be dried.

What ample power thy salt-rights give thee (which both thy mouth and lips can claim), Over a breast by sorrow wounded, and a heart burnt within its flame!

Oh! think not that the amorous only are drunk with rapture at thy sway: Hast thou not heard of zealots, also, as reckless and as wrecked as they?

By thy lips' reign I hold it proven that the bright ruby's sheen is won By the resplendent light that flashes out of a world-illuming sun.[23]

Fling back thy veil! how long, oh tell me! shall drapery thy beauty pale? This drapery, no profit bringing, can only for thy shame avail.

A fire within the rose's bosom was kindled when she saw thy face; And soon as she inhaled thy fragrance, she grew all rose-dew from disgrace.

The love thy countenance awakens whelms Hafiz in misfortune's sea; Death threatens him! ho there! give help, ere yet that he has ceased to be!

While life is thine, consent not, Hafiz, That it should speed ignobly by; But strive thou to attain the object Of thy existence ere thou die.



XX

I swear—my master's soul bear witness, faith of old times, and promise leal!— At early morning, my companion, is prayer for thy unceasing weal.

My tears, a more o'erwhelming deluge than was the flood which Noah braved, Have washed not from my bosom's tablet the image which thy love has graved.

Come deal with me, and strike thy bargain: I have a broken heart to sell, Which in its ailing state out-values a hundred thousand which are well.

Be lenient, if thou deem me drunken: on the primeval day divine Love, who possessed my soul as master, bent my whole nature unto wine.

Strive after truth that for thy solace the Sun may in thy spirit rise; For the false dawn of earlier morning grows dark of face because it lies.[24]

O heart, thy friend's exceeding bounty should free thee from unfounded dread; This instant, as of love thou vauntest, be ready to devote thy head!

I gained from thee my frantic yearning for mountains and the barren plain, Yet loath art thou to yield to pity, and loosen at mid-height my chain.

If the ant casts reproach on Asaf, with justice does her tongue upbraid, For when his Highness lost Jem's signet, no effort for the quest he made.[25]

No constancy—yet grieve not, Hafiz— Expect thou from the faithless fair; What right have we to blame the garden, Because the plant has withered there?



XXII

Veiled in my heart my fervent love for him dwells, And my true eye holds forth a glass to his spells.

Though the two worlds ne'er bowed my head when elate, Favors as his have bent my neck with their weight.

Thine be the lote, but I Love's stature would reach. High like his zeal ascends the fancy of each.

Yet who am I that sacred temple to tread? Still let the East that portal guard in my stead!

Spots on my robe—shall they arouse my complaint? Nay! the world knows that he at least has no taint.

My turn has come; behold! Majnun is no more;[26] Five days shall fly, and each one's turn shall be o'er.

Love's ample realm, sweet joy, and all that is glad, Save for his bounty I should never have had.[27]

I and my heart—though both should sacrificed be, Grant my friend's weal, their loss were nothing to me.

Ne'er shall his form within my pupil be dim, For my eye's cell is but a chamber for him.

All the fresh blooms that on the greensward we view, Gain but from him their scent and beauty of hue.

Hafiz seems poor; But look within, for his breast, Shrining his love, With richest treasure is blest.



XXIII

Prone at my friend's high gates, my Will its head lays still: Whate'er my head awaits is ordered by that will.

My friend resembles none; in vain I sought to trace, In glance of moon or sun, the radiance of that face.

Can morning's breeze make known what grief this heart doth hold, Which as a bud hath grown, compressed by fold on fold?

Not I first drained the jar where rev'lers pass away:[28] Heads in this work-yard are nought else than wine-jars' clay.

Meseems thy comb has wreathed those locks which amber yield: The gale has civet breathed, and amber scents the field.

Flowers of verdant nooks be strewn before thy face: Let cypresses of brooks bear witness to thy grace!

When dumb grow tongues of men that on such love would dwell, Why should a tongue-cleft pen by babbling strive to tell?

Thy cheek is in my heart; no more will bliss delay; Glad omens e'er impart news of a gladder day.

Love's fire has dropped its spark In Hafiz' heart before: The wild-grown tulip's mark Branded of old its core.[29]



XXV

Breeze of the morn, if hence to the land thou fliest—Of my friend, Return with a musky breath from the lock so sweet Of my friend.

Yea, by that life, I swear I would lay down mine in content, If once I received through thee but a message sent Of my friend.

But—at that sacred court, if approach be wholly denied, Convey, for my eyes, the dust that the door supplied Of my friend.

I—but a beggar mean—can I hope for Union at last? Ah! would that in sleep I saw but the shadow cast Of my friend.

Ever my pine-cone heart, as the aspen trembling and shy, Has yearned for the pine-like shape and the stature high Of my friend.

Not at the lowest price would my friend to purchase me care; Yet I, a whole world to win, would not sell one hair Of my friend.

How should this heart gain aught, Were its gyves of grief flung aside? I, Hafiz, a bondsman, still Would the slave abide Of my friend.



XXIX

Who of a Heaven on earth can tell, pure as the cell—Of dervishes? If in the highest state you'd dwell, be ever slaves Of dervishes.

The talisman of magic Might hid in some ruin's lonely site, Emerges from its ancient night at the wild glance Of dervishes.

When the proud sun has run his race, and he puts off his crown apace, He bows before the pomp and place which are the boast Of dervishes.

The palace portal of the sky, watched by Rizvan's unsleeping eye, All gazers can at once descry from the glad haunts Of dervishes.

When mortal hearts are black and cold, that which transmutes them into gold Is the alchemic stone we hold from intercourse Of dervishes.

When tyranny, from pole to pole, sways o'er the earth with dire control, We see from first to last unroll the victor-flag Of dervishes.

There is a wealth which lasts elate, unfearful of decline from fate; Hear it with joy—this wealth so great, is in the hands Of dervishes.

Khosraus, the kiblahs of our prayer have weight to solace our despair,[30] But they are potent by their care for the high rank Of dervishes.

O, vaunter of thy riches' pride! lay all thy vanity aside, And know that health and wealth abide but by the will Of dervishes.

Korah lost all his treasured store, which, cursed of Heaven, sinks daily more, (Hast thou not heard this tale of yore?) from disregard Of dervishes,[31]

The smiling face of joy unknown, yet sought by tenants of a throne, Is only in the mirror shown of the clear face Of dervishes.

Let but our Asaf's eye request, I am the slave of his behest, For though his looks his rank attest, he has the mind Of dervishes.

Hafiz, if of the tide thou think, which makes immortal those who drink, Seek in the dust that fountain's brink, at the cell door Of dervishes.

Hafiz, while here on earth, be wise: He who to empire's rule would rise, Knows that his upward pathway lies Through his regard Of dervishes.



XXXI

In blossom is the crimson rose, and the rapt bulbul trills his song; A summons that to revel calls you, O Sufis, wine-adoring throng!

The fabric of my contrite fervor appeared upon a rock to bide; Yet see how by a crystal goblet it hath been shattered in its pride.

Bring wine; for to a lofty spirit, should they at its tribunal be, What were the sentry, what the Sultan, the toper, or the foe of glee?

Forth from this hostel of two portals as finally thou needs must go, What of the porch and arch of Being be of high span or meanly low?

To bliss' goal we gain not access, if sorrow has been tasted not; Yea, with Alastu's pact was coupled the sentence of our baleful lot.

At Being and Non-being fret not; but either with calm temper see: Non-being is the term appointed for the most lovely things that be.

Asaf's display, the airy courser, the language which the birds employed, The wind has swept; and their possessor no profit from his wealth enjoyed.[32]

Oh! fly not from thy pathway upward, for the winged shaft that quits the bow A moment to the air has taken, to settle in the dust below.

What words of gratitude, O Hafiz Shall thy reed's tongue express anon, As its choice gems of composition From hands to other hands pass on?



XXXV

Now on the rose's palm the cup with limpid wine is brimming, And with a hundred thousand tongues the bird her praise is hymning.

Ask for a song-book, seek the wild, no time is this for knowledge; The Comment of the Comments spurn, and learning of the college,[33]

Be it thy rule to shun mankind, and let the Phoenix monish, For the reports of hermit fame, from Kaf to Kaf astonish.[34]

When yesterday our rector reeled, this sentence he propounded: "Wine is a scandal; but far worse what men's bequests have founded."

Turbid or clear, though not thy choice, drink thankfully; well knowing That all which from our Saki flows to his free grace is owing.

Each dullard who would share my fame, each rival self-deceiver, Reminds me that at times the mat seems golden to its weaver.

Cease, Hafiz! store as ruddy gold The wit that's in thy ditty: The stampers of false coin, behold! Are bankers for the city.[35]



XLII

'Tis a deep charm which wakes the lover's flame, Not ruby lip, nor verdant down its name.

Beauty is not the eye, lock, cheek, and mole; A thousand subtle points the heart control.



XLIII

Zealot, censure not the toper, guileless though thou keep thy soul: Certain 'tis that sins of others none shall write upon thy scroll.

Be my deeds or good or evil, look thou to thyself alone; All men, when their work is ended, reap the harvest they have sown.

Never of Eternal Mercy preach that I must yet despair; Canst thou pierce the veil, and tell me who is ugly, who is fair?

Every one the Friend solicits, be he sober, quaff he wine; Every place has love its tenant, be it or the mosque, or shrine.

From the still retreat of virtue not the first am I to roam, For my father also quitted his eternal Eden home.

See this head, devout submission: bricks at many a vintner's door: If my foe these words misconstrue—"Bricks and head!"—Say nothing more.

Fair though Paradise's garden, deign to my advice to yield: Here enjoy the shading willow, and the border of the field.

Lean not on thy store of merits; know'st thou 'gainst thy name for aye What the Plastic Pen indited, on the Unbeginning Day?

Hafiz, if thou grasp thy beaker When the hour of death is nigh, From the street where stands the tavern Straight they'll bear thee to the sky.



XLV

O breeze of morn! where is the place which guards my friend from strife? Where is the abode of that sly Moon who lovers robs of life?

The night is dark, the Happy Vale in front of me I trace.[36] Where is the fire of Sinaei, where is the meeting place?

Here jointly are the wine-filled cup, the rose, the minstrel; yet While we lack love, no bliss is here: where can my Loved be met?

Of the Shaikh's cell my heart has tired, and of the convent bare: Where is my friend, the Christian's child, the vintner's mansion, where?

Hafiz, if o'er the glade of earth The autumn-blast is borne, Grieve not, but musing ask thyself: "Where has the rose no thorn?"



LIX

My Prince, so gracefully thou steppest, that where thy footsteps fall—I'd die. My Turk, so gracefully thou glidest, before thy stature tall I'd die.

"When wilt thou die before me?"—saidst thou. Why thus so eagerly inquire? These words of thy desire delight me; forestalling thy desire I'd die.

I am a lover, drunk, forsaken: Saki, that idol, where is he? Come hither with thy stately bearing! let me thy fair form see, I'd die.

Should he, apart from whom I've suffered a life-long illness, day by day, Bestow on me a glance, one only, beneath that orb dark-gray I'd die.

"The ruby of my lips," thou saidst, "now bale, now balsam may exhale": At one time from their healing balsam, at one time from their bale I'd die.

How trim thy gait! May eye of evil upon thy face be never bent! There dwells within my head this fancy; that at thy feet content I'd die.

Though no place has been found for Hafiz In Love's retreat, where hid thou art, For me thine every part has beauty, Before thine every part— I'd die.



LXIII

My heart has of the world grown weary and all that it can lend: The shrine of my affection holds no Being but my friend.

If e'er for me thy love's sweet garden a fragrant breath exhale, My heart, expansive in its joy, shall bud-like burst its veil.

Should I upon love's path advise thee, when now a fool I've grown, 'Twould be the story of the fool, the pitcher, and the stone.

Go! say to the secluded zealot: "Withhold thy blame; for know, I find the arch of the Mihrab[37] but in an eyebrow's bow."

Between the Ka'bah and the wine-house, no difference I see: Whate'er the spot my glance surveys, there equally is He.

'Tis not for beard, hair, eyebrow only, Kalandarism should care: The Kalandar computes the Path by adding hair to hair.[38]

The Kalandar who gives a hair's head, An easy path doth tread: The Kalandar of genuine stamp, As Hafiz gives his head.



LXIX

My heart desires the face so fair—Of Farrukh;[39] It is perturbed as is the hair Of Farrukh.

No creature but that lock, that Hindu swart, Enjoyment from the cheek has sought Of Farrukh.

A blackamoor by Fortune blest is he, Placed at the side, and near the knee Of Farrukh.

Shy as the aspen is the cypress seen, Awed by the captivating mien Of Farrukh.

Saki, bring syrtis-tinted wine to tell Of those narcissi, potent spell Of Farrukh.

Bent as the archer's bow my frame is now, From woes continuous as the brow Of Farrukh.

E'en Tartar gales which musky odors whirl, Faint at the amber-breathing curl Of Farrukh.

If leans the human heart to any place, Mine has a yearning to the grace Of Farrukh.

That lofty soul Shall have my service true, That serves, as Hafiz, The Hindu—[40] Of Farrukh.



LXXI

When now the rose upon the meadow from Nothing into Being springs, When at her feet the humble violet with her head low in worship clings,

Take from thy morn-filled cup refreshment while tabors and the harp inspire, Nor fail to kiss the chin of Saki while the flute warbles and the lyre.

Sit thou with wine, with harp, with charmer, until the rose's bloom be past; For as the days of life which passes, is the brief week that she shall last.

The face of earth, from herbal mansions, is lustrous as the sky; and shines With asterisms of happy promise, with stars that are propitious signs.

In gardens let Zoroaster's worship again with all its rites revive, While now within the tulip's blossoms the fires of Nimrod[41] are alive.

Drink wine, presented by some beauty of Christ-like breath, of cheek fair-hued; And banish from thy mind traditions to Ad relating, and Thamud.[42]

Earth rivals the Immortal Garden during the rose and lily's reign; But what avails when the immortal is sought for on this earth in vain?

When riding on the windy courser, as Solomon, the rose is found, And when the Bird, at hour of morning, makes David's melodies resound,

Ask thou, in Solomon's dominion, a goblet to the brim renewed; Pledge the Vizir, the cycle's Asaf, the column of the Faith, Mahmud.

O Hafiz, while his days continue, let joy eternal be thine aim; And may the shadow of his kindness eternally abide the same!

Bring wine; for Hafiz, if in trouble, Will ceaselessly the help implore Of him who bounty shall aid ever, As it have aid vouchsafed before.



LXXVII

Upon the path of Love, O heart, deceit and risk are great! And fall upon the way shall he who at swift rate Shall go.

Inflated by the wind of pride, the bubble's head may shine; But soon its cap of rule shall fall, and merged in wine Shall go.

O heart, when thou hast aged grown, show airs of grace no more: Remember that such ways as these when youth is o'er Shall go.

Has the black book of black locks closed, the album yet shall stay, Though many a score the extracts be which day by day Shall go.



LXXXV

To me love's echo is the sweetest sound Of all that 'neath this circling Round Hath stayed.



LXXXVI

A beggar am I; yet enamoured of one of cypress mould: One in whose belt the hand bides only with silver and with gold.

Bring wine! let first the hand of Hafiz The cheery cup embrace! Yet only on one condition— No word beyond this place!



LXXXVII

When beamed Thy beauty on creation's morn, The world was set on fire by love new-born.

Thy cheek shone bright, yet angels' hearts were cold: Then flashed it fire, and turned to Adam's mould.

The lamp of Reason from this flame had burned, But lightning jealousy the world o'erturned.

The enemy Thy secret sought to gain; A hand unseen repelled the beast profane.

The die of Fate may render others glad: My own heart saddens, for its lot is sad.

Thy chin's deep pit allures the lofty mind: The hand would grasp thy locks in twines entwined,

Hafiz his love-scroll To Thyself addressed, When he had cancelled What his heart loved best.



LXXXVIII

The preacher of the town will find my language hard, maybe: While bent upon deceit and fraud, no Mussulman is he.

Learn drinking and do gracious deeds; the merit is not great If a mere brute shall taste not wine, and reach not man's estate.

Efficient is the Name Divine; be of good cheer, O heart! The div becomes not Solomon by guile and cunning's art.

The benisons of Heaven are won by purity alone: Else would not pearl and coral spring from every clod and stone?



CI

Angels I saw at night knock at the wine-house gate: They shaped the clay of Adam, flung into moulds its weight.

Spirits of the Unseen World of Purities divine, With me an earth-bound mortal, poured forth their 'wildering wine.

Heaven, from its heavy trust aspiring to be free, The duty was allotted, mad as I am, to me.

Thank God my friend and I once more sweet peace have gained! For this the houris dancing thanksgiving cups have drained.

With Fancy's hundred wisps what wonder that I've strayed, When Adam in his prudence was by a grain bewrayed?[43]

Excuse the wrangling sects, which number seventy-two: They knock at Fable's portal, for Truth eludes their view.

No fire is that whose flame the taper laughs to scorn: True fire consumes to ashes the moth's upgarnered corn.

Blood fills recluses' hearts where Love its dot doth place, Fine as the mole that glistens upon a charmer's face.

As Hafiz, none Thought's face Hath yet unveiled; not e'en Since for the brides of Language Combed have their tresses been.



CXV

Lost Joseph shall return to Kanaan's land—Despair not: Affliction's cell of gloom with flowers shall bloom: Despair not

Sad heart, thy state shall mend; repel despondency; Thy head confused with pain shall sense regain: Despair not.

When life's fresh spring returns upon the dais mead, O night-bird! o'er thy head the rose shall spread: Despair not,

Hope on, though things unseen may baffle thy research; Mysterious sports we hail beyond the veil: Despair not.

Has the revolving Sphere two days opposed thy wish, Know that the circling Round is changeful found: Despair not.

If on the Ka'bah bent, thou brave the desert sand, Though from the acacias thorn thy foot be torn, Despair not,

Heart, should the flood of death life's fabric sweep away, Noah shall steer the ark o'er billows dark: Despair not,

Though perilous the stage, though out of sight the goal, Whither soe'er we wend, there is an end: Despair not,

If Love evades our grasp, and rivals press our suit, God, Lord of every change, surveys the range: Despair not.

Hafiz, in thy poor nook— Alone, the dark night through— Prayer and the Koran's page Shall grief assuage— Despair not.



CXXIX

Endurance, intellect, and peace have from my bosom flown, Lured by an idol's silver ear-lobes, and its heart of stone.

An image brisk, of piercing looks, with peris' beauty blest, Of slender shape, of lunar face, in Turk-like tunic drest!

With a fierce glow within me lit—in amorous frenzy lost— A culinary pot am I, in ebullition tost.

My nature as a shirt's would be, at all times free from smart, If like yon tunic garb I pressed the wearer to my heart.

At harshness I have ceased to grieve, for none to light can bring A rose that is apart from thorns, or honey void of sting.

The framework of this mortal form may rot within the mould, But in my soul a love exists which never shall grow cold.

My heart and faith, my heart and faith—of old they were unharmed, Till by yon shoulders and yon breast, yon breast and shoulders charmed.

Hafiz, a medicine for thy woe, A medicine must thou sip, No other than that lip so sweet, That lip so sweet, that lip.



CXXXIV

Although upon his moon-like cheek delight and beauty glow, Nor constancy nor love is there: O Lord! these gifts bestow.

A child makes war against my heart; and he in sport one day Will put me to a cruel death, and law shall not gainsay.

What seems for my own good is this: my heart from him to guard; For one who knows not good from ill its guardianship were hard.

Agile and sweet of fourteen years that idol whom I praise: His ear-rings in her soul retains the moon of fourteen days.

A breath as the sweet smell of milk comes from those sugary lips; But from those black and roguish eyes behold what blood there drips!

My heart to find that new-born rose has gone upon its way; But where can it be found, O Lord? I've lost it many a day.

If the young friend who owns my heart my centre thus can break, The Pasha will command him soon the lifeguard's rank to take.

I'd sacrifice my life in thanks, If once that pearl of sheen Would make the shell of Hafiz' eye Its place of rest serene.



CXXXV

I tried my fortune in this city lorn: From out its whirlpool must my pack be borne.

I gnaw my hand, and, heaving sighs of ire, I light in my rent frame the rose's fire.

Sweet sang the bulbul at the close of day, The rose attentive on her leafy spray:

"O heart! be joyful, for thy ruthless Love Sits down ill-temper'd at the sphere above.

"To make the false, harsh world thyself pass o'er, Ne'er promise falsely and be harsh no more.

"If beat misfortune's waves upon heaven's roof, Devout men's fate and gear bide ocean-proof.

"Hafiz, if lasting Were enjoyment's day, Jem's throne would never Have been swept away."



CXLV

Breeze of the North, thy news allays my fears: The hour of meeting with my Loved one nears.

Prospered by Heaven, O carrier pigeon, fly: Hail to thee, hail to thee, come nigh, come nigh!

How fares our Salma? What Zu Salam's state? Our neighbors there—are they unscathed by Fate?

The once gay banquet-hall is now devoid Of circling goblets, and of friends who joyed.

Perished the mansion with its lot serene: Interrogate the mounds where once 'twas seen.

The night of absence has now cast its shade: What freaks by Fancy's night-gang will be played?

He who has loved relates an endless tale: Here the most eloquent of tongues must fail.

My Turk's kind glances no one can obtain: Alas, this pride, this coldness, this disdain!

In perfect beauty did thy wish draw nigh: God guard thee from Kamal's malefic eye![44]

Hafiz, long will last Patience, love, and pain? Lovers wail is sweet: Do thou still complain.



CXLVI

O thou who hast ravished my heart by thine exquisite grace and thy shape, Thou carest for no one, and yet not a soul from thyself can escape.

At times I draw sighs from my heart, and at times, O my life, thy sharp dart: Can aught I may say represent all the ills I endure from my heart?

How durst I to rivals commend thy sweet lips by the ruby's tent gemmed, When words that are vivid in hue by a soul unrefined are contemned?

As strength to thy beauty accrues ev'ry day from the day sped before, To features consummate as thine, will we liken the night-star no more.

My heart hast thou reft: take my soul! For thine envoy of grief what pretence? One perfect in grief as myself with collector as he may dispense.

O Hafiz, in Love's holy bane, As thy foot has at last made its way, Lay hold of his skirt with thy hand, And with all sever ties from to-day.



CXLIX

Both worlds, the Transient and Eterne, for Saki and the Loved I'd yield: To me appears Love's satellite the universe's ample field.

Should a new favorite win my place, my ruler shall be still supreme: It were a sin should I my life more precious than my friend esteem.



CLV

Last night my tears, a torrent stream, stopped Sleep by force: I painted, musing on thy down, upon the water-course.

Then, viewing my Beloved one's brow—my cowl burnt up— In honor of the sacred Arch I drained my flowing cup.

From my dear friend's resplendent brow pure light was shed; And on that moon there fell from far the kisses that I sped.

The face of Saki charmed my eye, the harp my ear: At once for both mine ear and eye what omens glad were here!

I painted thine ideal face till morning's light, Upon the studio of my eye, deprived of sleep at night.

My Saki took at this sweet strain the wine-bowl up: I sang to him these verses first; then drank to sparkling cup.

If any of my bird-like thoughts from joy's branch flew, Back from the springes of thy lock their fleeting wings I drew.

The time of Hafiz passed in joy: To friends I brought For fortune and the days of life The omens that they sought.



CLVII

Come, Sufi, let us from our limbs the dress that's worn for cheat Draw: Let us a blotting line right through this emblem of deceit Draw.

The convent's revenues and alms we'd sacrifice for wine awhile, And through the vintry's fragrant flood this dervish-robe of guile Draw.

Intoxicated, forth we'll dash, and from our feasting foe's rich stores Bear off his wine, and then by force his charmer out of doors Draw.

Fate may conceal her mystery, shut up within her hiding pale, But we who act as drunken men will from its face the veil Draw.

Here let us shine by noble deeds, lest we at last ashamed appear, When starting for the other world, we hence our spirit's gear Draw.

To-morrow at Rizvan's green glade, should they refuse to make it ours, We from their halls will the ghilman, the houris from their bowers Draw.

Where can we see her winking brow, that we, as the new moon of old, At once may the celestial ball, as with a bat of gold, Draw?

O Hafiz! it becomes us not Our boastful claims thus forth to put: Beyond the limits of our rug Why would we fain our foot Draw?



CLIX

Aloud I say it, and with heart of glee: "Love's slave am I, and from both worlds am free."

Can I, the bird of sacred gardens, tell Into this net of chance how first I fell?

My place the Highest Heaven, an angel born, I came by Adam to this cloister lorn.

Sweet houris, Tuba's shade, and Fountain's brink Fade from my mind when of thy street I think.

Knows no astrologer my star of birth: Lord, 'neath what plant bore me Mother Earth?

Since with ringed ear I've served Love's house of wine, Grief's gratulations have each hour been mine.

My eyeball's man drains my heart's blood; 'tis just: In man's own darling did I place my trust.

My Loved one's Alif-form[45] stamps all my thought: Save that, what letter has my master taught?

Let Hafiz' tear-drops By thy lock be dried, For fear I perish In their rushing tide.



CLXVI

Knowest thou what fortune is? 'Tis Beauty's sight obtaining; 'Tis asking in her lane for alms, And royal pomp disdaining.

Sev'erance from the wish for life an easy task is ever; But lose we friends who sweeten life, the tie is hard to sever.

Bud-like with a serried heart I'll to the orchard wander; The garment of my good repute I'll tear to pieces yonder;

Now, as doth the West-wind, tell deep secrets to the Flower, Hear now of Love's mysterious sport from bulbuls of the bower.

Kiss thy Beloved one's lips at first while the occasion lingers: Await thou else disgust at last from biting lip and fingers.

Profit by companionship: this two-doored house forsaken, No pathway that can thither lead in future time is taken.

Hafiz from the thought, it seems, Of Shah Mansur has fleeted; O Lord! remind him that the poor With favor should be treated.



CLXXIII

With my heart's blood I wrote to one most dear: "The earth seems doom-struck if thou are not near.

"My eyes a hundred signs of absence show: These tears are not their only signs of woe."

I gained no boon from her for labor spent: "Who tries the tried will in the end repent."

I asked how fared she; the physician spake: "Afar from her is health; but near her ache."

The East-wind from my Moon removed her veil: At morn shone forth the Sun from vapors pale.

I said: "They'll mock, if I go round thy lane." By God! no love escapes the mocker's bane.

Grant Hafiz' prayer: "One cup, by life so sweet!" He seeks a goblet With thy grace replete!



CLXXX

O thou who art unlearned still, the quest of love essay: Canst thou who hast not trod the path guide others on the way?

While in the school of Truth thou stay'st, from Master Love to learn, Endeavor, though a son to-day, the father's grade to earn.

Slumber and food have held thee far from Love's exalted good: Wouldst thou attain the goal of love, abstain from sleep and food.

If with the rays of love of truth thy heart and soul be clear, By God! thy beauty shall outshine the sun which lights the sphere.

Wash from the dross of life thy hands, as the Path's men of old, And winning Love's alchemic power, transmute thyself to gold.

On all thy frame, from head to foot, the light of God shall shine, If on the Lord of Glory's path nor head nor foot be thine.

An instant plunge into God's sea, nor e'er the truth forget That the Seven Seas' o'erwhelming tide, no hair of thine shall wet.

If once thy glancing eye repose on the Creator's face. Thenceforth among the men who glance shall doubtless be thy place.[46]

When that which thy existence frames all upside-down shall be, Imagine not that up and down shall be the lot of thee.

Hafiz, if ever in thy head Dwell Union's wish serene, Thou must become the threshold's dust Of men whose sight is keen.



[FOOTNOTES to THE DIVAN]

[Footnote 1: "The traveller of the Pathway"—the Magian, or Shaikh. In former times wine was chiefly sold by Magians, and as the keepers of taverns and caravansaries grew popular, the term Magian was used to designate not only "mine host," but also a wise old man, or spiritual teacher.]

[Footnote 2: An allusion to the dimple and moisture of the chin, considered great beauties by Orientals.]

[Footnote 3: Jem or Jemshid, an ancient King of Persia. By Jem and his Saki are to be understood, in this couplet, the King of Yazd and his courtiers.]

[Footnote 4: By the azure cowl is implied the cloak of deceit and false humility. Hafiz uses this expression to cast ridicule upon Shaikh Hazan's order of dervishes, who were inimical to the brotherhood of which the poet was a member. The dervishes mentioned wore blue to express their celestial aspirations.]

[Footnote 5: The disciples of Shaikh Hasan. Hafiz had incurred their displeasure by the levity of his conduct.]

[Footnote 6: In the "Gulistan" of Sa'di a philosopher declares that, of all the trees, the cypress is alone to be called free, because, unlike the others, it is not subject to the vicissitudes of appointed place and season, "but is at all times fresh and green, and this is the condition of the free."]

[Footnote 7: In some MSS. we read: "The mirror of Sikander is the goblet of Jem." King Jem, or Jemshid, had a talismanic cup: Sikander, or Alexander, had inherited from pre-Adamite times a magic mirror by means of which he was enabled to see into the camp of his enemy Dara (Darius). Hafiz here informs us that the knowledge imputed to either king was obtained by wine.]

[Footnote 8: Referring to wine, which in the Koran is declared to be the Mother of Vices.]

[Footnote 9: Korah, Kore, or Karun, the Dives of his age, was an alchemist. He lived in an excess of luxury and show. At the height of his pride and gluttony he rebelled against Moses, refusing to pay a tithe of his possessions for the public use. The earth then opened and swallowed him up together with the palace in which he dwelt. (See Koran, chap, xxviii, and, for the Bible narrative, The Book of Numbers, chap, xvi.)]

[Footnote 10: It was decreed from all eternity that Hafiz should drink wine. He had therefore no free agency and could not be justly blamed.]

[Footnote 11: The boy serving at the wine-house.]

[Footnote 12: The curl of hair over a moon-like face is here compared to a curved mall-bat sweeping over a ball.]

[Footnote 13: By "earth" is to be understood Noah himself.]

[Footnote 14: Fate, Fortune, and the Sky, are in Oriental poetry intervertible expressions; and the dome of Heaven is compared to a cup which is full of poison for the unfortunate.]

[Footnote 15: The rebeck is a sort of violin having only three chords.]

[Footnote 16: His locks being black as night and his cheek cheerful as the Sun of Dai or December.]

[Footnote 17: Kai-kaus, one of the most celebrated monarchs of Persia.]

[Footnote 18: The pictured halls of China, or, in particular, the palace of Arzhang, the dwelling of Manes. Manes lived in the third century of our era, and his palace was famed as the Chinese picture-gallery. Hafiz compares the bloom upon the cheek of his friend to the works of art executed by Manes, in which dark shadows, like velvety down upon the human face, excite no surprise.]

[Footnote 19: The Nasrin is the dog-rose.]

[Footnote 20: In Mohammedan countries it is customary to write upon the doors: "O Opener of the gates! open unto us the gates of blessing."]

[Footnote 21: Rizvan is the gardener and gatekeeper of Paradise.]

[Footnote 22: The lote-tree, known to Arabs as the Tuba, is a prickly shrub. The Koran says: "To those who believe, and perform good works, appertain welfare and a fair retreat. The men of the right hand—how happy shall be the men of the right hand!—shall dwell among the lote-trees without thorns. Under their feet rivers shall flow in the garden of Delight."]

[Footnote 23: According to Oriental belief, the ruby and all other gems, derive their brilliancy from the action of the sun. By a similar process of Nature, ruby lips obtain their vivid color from the sun above them.]

[Footnote 24: The zodiacal light or faint illumination of the sky which disappears before the light of daybreak.]

[Footnote 25: Asaf, Solomon's "Vizir," was entrusted with the guardianship of the imperial signet ring, which was possessed of magical properties. While in his care it was stolen. When Solomon granted an audience to animals, and even insects, the ant, it is related, brought as an offering a blade of grass and rebuked Asaf for having guarded the royal treasure so carelessly. By Asaf, Hafiz symbolizes in the present instance his friend or favorite; by the ant is implied a small hair on the face, and by the lost signet of Jem, a beautiful mouth, so small and delicate as to be invisible.]

[Footnote 26: Majnun, a celebrated lover, maddened by the charms of Laila.]

[Footnote 27: This ode may have been written in gratitude for the patronage of a man of rank.]

[Footnote 28: Literally in this toper-consuming shrine (of the world). The second line of the couplet probably means: Other revellers have preceded me, but their heads are now potter's clay in the potter's field of the earth.]

[Footnote 29: The wild tulip of Shiraz has white petals streaked with pink, the inner end of each bearing a deep puce mark. The dark spot formed thus in the centre of the flower is compared to the brand of love, pre-ordained on the Past Day of Eternity to be imprinted on the heart of Hafiz.]

[Footnote 30: Khosrau (Cyrus) is the title of several ancient kings of Persia, and is here used in the plural to denote monarchs in general. The term "kiblah," fronting-point, signifies the object towards which the worshipper turns when he prays.]

[Footnote 31: Korah or Karun—the miser who disobeyed Moses and was swallowed up with his treasures by the earth. They are said to be still sinking deeper and deeper. (See Numbers, xvi.)]

[Footnote 32: How vain were the glories of Solomon! Asaf was his minister, the East wind his courser, and the language of birds one of his accomplishments; but the blast of time had swept them away.]

[Footnote 33: The "Comment of the Comments" is a celebrated explanatory treatise on the Koran.]

[Footnote 34: Kaf is a fabulous mountain encircling the world. In this couplet and the following the poet ridicules the ascetics of his time.]

[Footnote 35: The false coiners are inferior poets who endeavor to pass off their own productions as the work of Hafiz.]

[Footnote 36: Aiman (Happiness) is the valley in which God appeared to Moses—metaphorically, the abode of the Beloved.]

[Footnote 37: "Mihrab"—the niche in a mosque, towards which Mohammedans pray.]

[Footnote 38: Kalandars are an order of Mohammedan dervishes who wander about and beg. The worthless sectaries of Kalandarism, Hafiz says, shave off beard and tonsure, but the true or spiritual Kalandar shapes his path by a scrupulous estimate of duty.]

[Footnote 39: "Farrukh" (auspicious) is doubtless the name of some favorite of the Poet.]

[Footnote 40: "Hindu" is here equivalent to "slave."]

[Footnote 41: Zerdusht (in Latin, Zoroaster)—the celebrated prophet of the Gulbres, or fire-worshippers. Nimrod is said to have practised a religion, similar to theirs.]

[Footnote 42: Ad and Thamud were Arab tribes exterminated by God in consequence of their having disobeyed the prophet Salih.]

[Footnote 43: By a "grain" is meant a grain of wheat; according to Mohammedans, the forbidden fruit of Paradise.]

[Footnote 44: Kamal was an Arab whose glance inflicted death.]

[Footnote 45: "Alif-form," meaning a straight and erect form: the letter Alif being, as it were, of upright stature.]

[Footnote 46: "The men who glance" are lovers. The spiritual or true lover is he who loves God.]

END OF VOLUME ONE