Darvish Khan Writes

return, o saqi, for i am desirous of your attention.
i am longing for counsel and prayer for my well being.

by the grace of the cup of your bright happiness,
show me the way out of my dark confusion.

although i have drowned a hundred times in the ocean of sin,
when i became known to love, i joined the people of mercy.

don’t blame me for rendi and a bad name, o hakim-
this was written long ago in the book of my fate!

drink wine, because the state of love is not by trade or choice-
this gift came by inheriting my very own genius.

i, who have never chosen to leave my place,
from the love of seeing you, now desire to travel.

the way of sea and mountain, and i weak and tired-
o khezar of the bless’ed foot, embolden my resolve!

outwardly, i am far from the wealth of the friend’s palace-
but in heart and soul, i am with those who dwell in his presence.

hafez will surrender his soul before your eyes-
this is my thought, if my life will grant me respite!

notes: khezar= the imortal guide whose footprints turn green.
hakim= a learned and wise person.

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your curl’s twists are the snare of religion and blasphemy,
and of all your attributes, this is merely a scent!

your beauty is the wondrous proof of goodness, but
the history of your glance is clearly magic.

whose soul can endure your capricious eye-
for it is a bow always drawn in ambush?

may that black eye have a hundred praises and cheers,
for in killing lovers, it is nothing but a creative curse!

it is a wondrous science, the science of love’s form-
because the lowliest earth becomes the highest heaven!

don’t think that the speaker of evil left, and its soul won-
it left its entire account with the recording angels.

hafez, don’t become safe from the wiles of his curls,
which have stolen your heart, and now entrap religion.

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in the reign of the shah, forgiving of fault and defect,
hafez has drained, and the mofti has emptied, his glass.

the sufi sat in the cloister’s corner behind a barrel of wine,
until he saw the mohtaseb pass with bottles on his back.

about the state of sheik and qazi and their secret drinking,
i enquired early this morning from the seller of wine:

he said,” ‘though you are trusted, it is not to be discussed.
shut the mouth, draw the curtain and enjoy your wine!”

saqi, spring is coming, but no money for wine remains-
think about it- the heart will come to boil from grief!

love is, and poverty and youth, and spring newly arrived-
accept my excuse, and forgive my fault with generosity!

for how long, like the candle, will you wax eloquent?
shut up, o lover- the moth of desire has arrived!

please live that long for your youthful luck to receive
heaven’s blue robe when the sky’s patched coat wears out.

notes: mofti= one who can issue a fatwa, or religious edict.
mohtaseb= enforcer of religious law. qazi= judge.
saqi= wine bearer. last line= may the shah live long enough to
receive the pure blue mantle of eternity at the end of time, or
judgement day, when the tattered sphere of the moon and
the planets wears out.

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last night, in our circle of friends, the story was of your curls.
into the heart of night, our talk was of your long, curly hair.

the heart ran with blood from your eyelash’s arrows,
and was longing for the arched bows of your eyebrow.

may god forgive the breeze that delivered your message-
for had it not, another would not have arrived.

the world has no idea of love’s terror and tumult-
its sedition is all due to the sorcery of your glance.

i, the astonished one, was among the safe and secure,
but your hair’s twisted curls became a snare in my path.

loosen my shirt until my heart is opened-
my purity is because of my being by your side.

remember your promise, when you pass by hafez’s grave
who, as he left this world, was still desiring your face.

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Now that the rose has been born from nonexistence-
the violet has lowered its head at its feet.

Drink the morning glass to the sound of daf and harp-
kiss both cheeks of the Saqi with song of ney and oud!

In the time of the rose, don’t sit without wine, lover and song-
for it abides but a while, its time just a week.

From the houses of sweet herb in the luminous heavens,
it became earth by lucky star and auspicious ascendant.

By the hand of the slender beloved, breathing Jesus’ name,
drink wine, and forget the stories of Ad and Samud.

The world is like paradise with lily and rose-
but of what use, when there is no abiding in it?

How the rose mounts on air, like Solomon, at dawn
when the bird arrives with the songs of David.

In the garden, revive the rites of the Zorastrian faith,
now that the tulip has rekindled the fire of Nimrod.

Drink the morning glass in memory of the Asaf of our time,
vazir to the kingdom of Solomon, Imadu’d-din Mahmud!

May it be that Hafez by the grace of his patronage,
might find all that which he is petitioning!

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i am he whose table at the wine-house is the khaneqah,
and prayer for the magian elder is my dawn rosary.

if morning does not bring the harp’s melody- so what,
my dawn’s music is my sighing petition of thanks!

i am free of king and beggar at last- praise god!
the meanest beggar at the friend’s door is my king.

my interest in mosque and wine-house is union with you-
i have no thought apart from this, as god is my witness!

from the moment i placed my head on the threshold,
my refuge has rested upon the sun’s throne!

maybe by the sword of death i will strike camp, or not-
to flee by the door of fortune is not my way and custom.

although the blame was not our choice, hafez
strive in the way of adab, and say “the fault is mine”.

notes: khaneqah= sufi center. adab= ritual politeness.
magian elder= zorastrian elder: hafez has a fascination
for zorastrian imagery. zorastrianism was the dominant
pre islamic religious faith of iran. the zorastrian elder
is a mysterious and spiritual person. this ghazal appears
to refer to hafez losing his court position, but not
regretting it.

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This morning, when he journeyed to the wine-shop
the aref was purified by the bright water of wine.

As soon as the sun’s golden bowl sinks from view,
the moon’s crescent points to the time of cup sharing.

Beautiful the prayer and need of those whose pain
the water of tears and the blood of courage purifies.

Because all of seeing depends on insight-
behold the beloved’s face with grateful eyes!

Due to her encircling curls, my heart bought my soul such grief
that in all this, I do not know who profited from whom!

If the imam summons the congregation today,
give the news that Hafez has been made pure by wine!

note: aref= gnostic

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for god’s sake, sit less with those wrapped in robes-
don’t hide your face from the unadorned rend!

in this cloak there is a great defilement, but
joyous is the wine-seller’s appearance!

you are slender of form and without strength to bear
such a group of those as robed in pomposity.

come, and see the deceit of these shysters,
a cup of the heart’s blood, with harp whining!

since you have made me drunk, don’t sit down veiled-
since i drank what you gave me, don’t give me poison!

i see no pain at all among these wannabes-
may the pleasure of those who drink the dregs be pure!

listen, beware of the ardency of hafez-
for he has a heart like a screaming kettle!

note: see entry of 1/05/09 for rend. an admission t0
astute scholars- the “screaming kettle” is really a boiling
pot.

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welcome, bird of fortunate strength and happy message,
happy arrival! what news of the friend- where is he?

o lord, may your timeless grace guide our caravan
by which the enemy and mistress are well engaged!

all between me and my beloved has no end-
that which has no beginning, can have no end.

since the beloved’s curls demand the sacred thread of old-
get lost, o sheik, for the dervish robe is forbidden!

the bird of my spirit that was singing from the lote tree,
your cheek’s mole, like a seed, in the end, ensnared it.

you showed my love sick heart no kindness. i said,
this is my claim: “you and this moment are mine”!

the rose brings joy without limit- show all your face!
the cypress struts terribly- for god’s sake, walk forth!

if hafez inclines toward your eyebrow- it’s fitting,
for the man of speech has a corner in the mehrab’s eye.

notes: the zorastrian sacred thread- zonnar in persian,
also means ringlets. the lote tree marks where mohammad
received the qoran. the cypress is most slender and graceful,
but not if contrasted with the beloved. the mehrab is the
niche in a mosque that indicates the direction of mecca
and the orientation of ritual prayer. the “man of speech”
“inclining” refers to the performance of ritual prayer-
but toward and to the beloved- not mecca! hafez’s poetry
has usurped the daily prayers. let’s hear it for love!

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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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