Darvish Khan Writes

however much i’ve discussed pain with doctors,
they have not cured the strange and the poor.

the seal on the jewel case of friendship is broken.
o lord, may the rival’s desire be frustrated!

to the rose torn open by the hand of wind-
may your shame be for the nightingale’s song.

we spoke of our secret pain with the friend-
such pain can’t be hidden from the healer.

o lord, grant the protection that once again
the eyes of lovers may see the beloved’s face.

o provider, for how long will we be denied
a portion of the feast spread on your table?

hafez, you would not be crazy about the rose
if you had heeded polite and proper advice!

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0 hoopoe of the east wind, i send you to sheba.
look, from where to where am i sending you?

what a shame, a bird like you in this world of pain:
i’ll send you from this place, to the sky of promise!

in the way of love, there is no near or far refuge-
i see you clearly, and i’m sending a prayer.

i send with the winds of east and north,
dawn and dusk, a caravan of good wishes.

that the army of grief not plunder the heart’s wealth,
i am sending my very own soul for ransom.

bring wine, saqi, for a voice from heaven gave the news:
“be patient with your pain, i have sent the remedy”.

o you, the unseen one, who has become the heart’s friend-
i am saying my prayers and sending my thanks to you!

in your own face enjoy the skill of god-
i have sent a god-revealing mirror to you.

that minstrel might declare my passion for you,
word, song and melody are now coming to you.

hafez, our song is the reciting of your excellence;
hurry up, horse and robe of honor now await you!

notes: in the qoran, solomon sends the queen of sheba
a letter with the hoopoe, admonishing her, and
demanding that she surrender.

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you see me and increase my suffering at once-
i see you and my longing increases each moment.

you don’t ask about me, and i don’t know your mind.
you do not seek my cure- do you not know my pain?

this is not the way- to treat me like dirt and leave!
pass by- but talk to me, that i become your path’s dust!

i will not let go your damaan- except in dust, yet still
cling to your hem as you walk over me again.

my breath fades from your love’s pain, yet you breathe!
you have ruined me, but you do not say “arise”!

last night i found my heart again among your curls;
i saw your cheek and drank again from crescent lips.

suddenly i held you and your hair got all entangled-
i placed my lips on yours and offered heart and soul.

be happy with hafez and go tell the enemy to give up;
when i feel your warmth, why fear the rival’s cold speech?

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I speak freely and am happy with my words:
I am the slave of love and am free of both worlds!

A bird from heaven’s garden, how describe
My fall into the pit and snare of disaster?

I was an angel and sublime heaven my home:
Adam brought me to the ruins of this world.

Blissful bower of houri’s arms by heaven’s pool
Was forgotten in the desire of your alley.

My heart’s slate bears only the alif of the friend’s form;
What can I say- the master taught me no other letter!

No astrologer recognized my star’s fortune;
O Lord, to the mother of time with what fate was I born!

Ever since I became the ear-ringed slave of love’s wine,
Each breath brings me new pain with “may you be blessed”!

The pupil of my eye drinks the heart’s blood- amen!
Why did I give my heart to the crowd’s favorite?

Wipe the tears from Hafez’s face with her curls-
Or this constant flood will carry him away!

notes: alif= the first letter of the persian alphabet
which symbolically contains all other letters, and
which resembles a standing figure. houri= buxom
astral girlfriend.

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friends, remember our nocturnal companion,
remember the rights of sincere servitude.

when joyous with wine, the way of lover’s complaints
recall to the sound of cymbal and harp’s melody.

when the saqi’s cheeks are bright with the grace of wine,
remember the lovers with melody, song and dance.

when the hand of hope touches the waist of desire,
you will remember for a while our company.

do not suffer a passing grief for the faithful,
but remember the inconstancy of time’s motion.

if the horse of fortune is rebellious,
remember those who suffered from the whip.

with compassionate regard, o occupant of the seat of glory
remember the face of hafez and this threshold!

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why seek well-being from us, when we invite drunkards?
with the roll of your drunken narcissus eyes, peace is gone!

open the wine-house door, because the khaneqah has nothing-
believe it or not, this was the fact. we have spoken.

by your eye, o saqi, i have fallen on hard times, but
for troubles from the beloved, we give a thousand thanks!

i described your body as tall and slim, but was embarrassed
as to why this comparison and slander was made.

if you do not forgive me, you will regret it later-
keep this in mind, how we have spoken of service!

my liver, like a musk pod, has become blood- which i deserve:
payback for wrongly saying “china,” in reference to her hair!

you have become fire, o hafez, although she remains cool-
with the rose’s bad faith, it’s like we’ve been talking to the wind!

notes: khaneqah= sufi center. saqi= wine bearer.

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Who will again inquire about the bloodied hearts,
and ask of the heavens about the blood-red vats?

If the drunken narcissus should lift its head again,
may it be shamed by the eyes of wine-worshipers!

Whoever offers the cup like the tulip,
will splash and wash the cheek with blood.

Enough, that the harp has spoken in melody;
cut off its strands of hair that it lament no more!

Apart from the connoisseur of wine, Plato,
who can offer to us the mysteries of wisdom?

My heart will not flower like a rosebud again,
unless it smells anew the crimson tulip-cup.

If he does not die, Hafez will circle around
the most sacred wine temple of Mecca!

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