Darvish Khan Writes

o sweet breeze of dawn- where is the friend’s resting place?
where is the house of that murderous and vagrant moon?

the night is dark and the valley of freedom lies ahead-
but where the light of sinai, and the place of vision, where?

all who come to this world bear the mark of ruin-
don’t ask of the tavern, “and where are the sober?”

he who knows the signs belongs to the people of good news-
the signs are many, but where is the friend of such secrets?

every hair on my head has a thousand interests in you-
what do i have to do with the disinterested critic?

the intellect has gone mad- where are the chains of musk?
the heart has left our eye- where was the arching eyebrow?

wine, rose and song are all here, ready to go, but
pleasure without the friend won’t work- where is he?

hafez, don’t suffer from fall’s wind in the field of time-
think it through! when was there ever rose without thorn!

note: light of sinai, etc. = moses (and his predicament)

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he who protects the land of the people of faith-
god protect him in all ways from calamity.

if you wish that the beloved not break his word,
hold your end of the thread, that he hold his.

about the friend’s pain- i don’t give news but to friend,
because friend holds dearly the word of dear friend.

i’ll give gold, silver, heart and soul to that beloved
who holds dearly the truth of loyal friendship.

gentle breeze, if you find my heart caught in his curly hair,
with all kindness please tell it to hold fast to its place.

o heart, live in such a way that if a foot slips,
the angel with two hands in prayer will protect you.

he does not protect our heart and has no time for its pain-
but god regards what rises from the hands of his slave.

o where is the dust of your path, that hafez
might be brought a fragrant reminder by the breeze?

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In the beginning, the light of your beauty breathed into being-
And love appeared, illuminating the whole world.

Your face appeared, and the angels saw they had no love-
They became fire out of this envy, and gave love to man.

Intellect wished to light a lamp from that flame-
The lightning of envy flashed and shook the world.

The pretender wished to come and witness the secret-
An unseen hand struck the breast of that unlawful stranger.

The others cast the lot of their fate on pleasure,
But our grieving heart cast its lot with sorrow.

The pure one lusted after your chin’s dimple,
He placed his hand on those rings of curls upon curls.

Hafez wrote the joyful book of love on that day
When his pen crossed out the causes of a happy heart.

Notes: The Poet’s sublime cosmogony! In the beginning
was the beloved of light, love and beauty; the angels could
not receive this love, and envy man who did; intellect, in
turn, was not worthy of the flame of love, but the heart was;
the “pretenders” to love are rebuked; most choose
pleasure over sacrifice; nothing inspires purity like
beauty; and joyful love is only supported by self denial.

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o you by whose bright face the tulip bed grows green- return!
because without your rosy cheek, the spring of life is gone.

if tears fall from the eye like rain- so be it!
because life, in grief for you, has left like lightning.

these one or two breaths that hold the promise of seeing you
reveal our business, even though life remains uncertain.

how long will the sweet sleep of dawn and morning wine last?
be awake, look out! life’s options are running out!

he passed by yesterday but glanced not at me-
desperate the heart which sees nothing of passing life!

no one has thought for fana’s infinity
when life is centered on the lips of your mouth.

the horsemen of calamity lie in ambush at every turn-
for this reason life’s rider runs with broken rein.

i live without life, but don’t consider that strange-
why count the days of separation as part of life?

hafez, tell your story- for on these pages of the world
this writing from your pen will remain as life’s reminder.

notes: fana= spiritual annihilation.

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we don’t speak badly, and incline not toward falsity.
we don’t call robe black, nor dye our own cloak blue.

we don’t inscribe bad letters in the book of learning.
we don’t join truth’s secrets to pages of lies.

the blame of rich and poor is more or less great-
my best advice is to remain indifferent to both.

the heavens split the ship of the lords of knowledge-
the best support does not rest on the plunging sea.

if the shah does not respect the rend‘s drink,
w will not incline toward his pure and clear wine.

and if envy speaks or a friend rages, say
be happy- for we do not give ear to fools.

hafez, if the enemy lies- let it go- and,
if he tells the truth, we won’t quarrel with that!

notes: apparently the shah offers filtered wine,
but hafez drinks the dregs.

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we will lift our hands one night in prayer, and find
a remedy for the grief we suffer apart from you.

our heart has slipped from our hands- friends, help!
bring the doctor with healing herb to make it well.

the root of joy is withered. where is the tavern,
that with water and air we might grow and flourish?

without cause he took offense- struck me with sword, and left-
bring him back, o god, and restore harmony.

in lust’s way our heart became an idol’s temple.
release the arrows of our sighs, and we will take up strife!

seek help from the rend‘s ways o heart, and if not
its a rough go, and may you never make a mistake!

the small bird’s shadow offers little protection-
let us seek the fortunate shade of the huma.

your heart is out of tune, hafez. where is your beautiful speech
that with word and ghazal we can make melody and song!

notes: huma= the bird whose shadow, should it fall on one,
confers fabulous fortune.

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when god made your form of heart-opening eyebrows,
he tied the start of my affair to your eye-glancing.

he stole quiet from both heart and longing bird,
when he veiled both you and flower with covering.

many the knot was loosened from the rosebud’s heart,
when the rose breeze bound the heart to scent of you.

cycles of time made me pleased with your bonds,
but to what avail when the thread’s end lies in your pleasure.

do not knot up my poor heart like a bag of musk,
when promise by your loosening curls is given.

o time of union, indeed you were another life-
see the heart’s mistake in having hope of your trust!

i said, “i will leave town by your cruel hand!”
with a laugh, he replied, “hafez, your foot is bound.”

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the ancient fatwa of the magian elder
says that wine is forbidden where there is no friend.

i will rip up this coat of hypocrisy- what to do?
rude company is torture to the spirit.

o that her lips might let fall a drop of wine-
for years i have sat here at the wineshop door.

maybe she forgot my long, long service.
dawn breeze, tell her of our ancient agreement.

were you to pass over my dust one hundred years hence,
my rotten bones will arise dancing from the dirt.

the beloved robbed the heart of a hundred hopes at first,
but the noble one will not forget the promise at last.

tell the young rose not to close in despair-
the sigh of dawn and morning’s breath will inspire.

o heart, place the thought of safety at another’s door-
the lover’s pain does not improve with the doctor’s help!

seize the jewel of gnosis you carry within you-
the lucre of gold and silver is the lot of others!

the snare tightens unless god’s grace befriends-
otherwise, adam loses to accursed satan.

hafez, you have no gold and silver- so what! give thanks
you have the wealth of graceful speech and a nature free!

notes: fatwa= religious edict.

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I see the light of god in the Magian tavern.
Look, this is strange! I see what light from where?

Don’t sell me your pomp, king of the Haj- you
See a house of stone, and I see the house of god!

I wish to release the musk from the idol’s curls-
This is a big idea and no doubt a big blunder!

Burnt heart, tear’s flood, dawn’s sigh and night’s lament-
I see all of this by your sight- full of grace!

Mind’s thief is every moment a vision of you face.
To whom describe all that passes behind this veil?

No one sees in the musk of China or Khatan
What I see each morning from the dawn breeze.

Friends, don’t blame the playing eye of Hafez-
I see him as one beloved among your own.

notes: Hafez has a fascination for the themes of the
Magian elder and the Magian wine-house, or temple,
where idols and wine are to be found. These images
refer to Iran’s pre Islamic past. Here, Zoroaster is
the Prophet of light, the tavern is the house of god,
but the Kaba is a house of stone!

Religious sensibility is no match for spiritual reality!

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All my life each day I’ve been walking in search
and each moment made entreaty of reputation.

Without the waxing light of my love, how to pass the days?
I set a snare on the path, and place a bird inside it.

Where are Aurang and Golchere- image of faithful love?
And now, I make my best move to be a lover?

I know this coughing blood day and night
will bring to an end my grief and colorful story.

That I might have news of the slender cypress
all about I shout with love at graceful motion.

Although a quiet heart does not grant heart’s desire,
I draw fancy’s picture and hope for lasting augury.

Although absent from him and, like Hafez, down on wine,
among the spiritual I have a glass from time to time.

Notes: Regarding “reputation”: according to Meher Baba,
“Hafez was very ugly and born of poor parents. His father
was a coal merchant. Hafez, too, was a coal merchant and
very black with soot.” Lord Meher, 6138

Yet Hafez was guided by the star of his genius to become
the greatest poet in the Persian language!

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