Hafiz: Ghazal 367 "Wine, Humans and Song" (From Persian)

This poem, like the Entreaty to Fakhr-al-Din Abd-ul-Samad seems to be composed very much with a singing voice in mind, and thus to have a more strophic dimension to its verses than many other ghazals. Thus, the romanization I have provided this time is formatted, like my translation, with each verse broken down into four metrically identical units, so as to suggest the way the poem moves and highlight the frequent verse-internal rhymes. I have so chosen the metrical pattern that the English translation should, at least theoretically, also be singable to many of the same melodies to which the Persian original has been set.

Ghazal 367:  Wine, Humans and Song
By Hafiz
Translated by A.Z. Foreman

Hey come lets scatter flowers around
and fill the chalice up with wine　
　　We'll crack the heavens' vault in half
　　and hew a wholly new design.
When Sorrow's armies mobilize　　
to skiver lovers with her pikes,　　
　　The serving boy and I destroy
　　their camp with punchy counterstrikes.
Here put rosewater in the wine　　
and sugar in the censer there　　
　　To sweeten up the scent we sense
　　upon the incense-bearing air.
Hey songster with your fine-tuned lute,　　
strum us a fun and tuneful song.　　
　　We'll stamp our feet, carouse in dance
　　clap to the beat and sing along.
O dawn wind bear the lowborn dust　
of my existence to the place 　　
　　of His high majesty. Perhaps
　　I'll see His splendor face to face.
This blowhard boasts of intellect.　　
That one speaks spells of mummery.　　
　　Why don't we take their argument
　　to court and let the Judge decree?
If what you want is Paradise 　　
come on and join me in the bar.　　
　　I'll zonk you from a liquor cask 
　　into the basin of Kawthar.
Hafiz the arts of verse and song　　
are out of fashion in Shiraz　　
　　Go seek a more receptive realm
　　a court more loving in its laws.

Notes:

Verse 7: Kawthar - a stream (or lake, or stream with a basin) found in Paradise.

Verse 8: As in some of Hafiz' other poems, the ending seems to be a not-so-veiled threat to take his verse's business elsewhere if he is not treated better by the local potentate.

Audio of me reciting this poem in Persian


The Original:

بیا تا گل برافشانیم و می در ساغر اندازیم

فلک را سقف بشکافیم و طرحی نو دراندازیم

اگر غم لشکر انگیزد که خون عاشقان ریزد

من و ساقی به هم تازیم و بنیادش براندازیم

شراب ارغوانی را گلاب اندر قدح ریزیم

نسیم عطرگردان را شِکَر در مجمر اندازیم

چو در دست است رودی خوش بزن مطرب سرودی خوش

که دست افشان غزل خوانیم و پاکوبان سر اندازیم

صبا خاک وجود ما بدان عالی جناب انداز

بود کان شاه خوبان را نظر بر منظر اندازیم

یکی از عقل می‌لافد یکی طامات می‌بافد

بیا کاین داوری‌ها را به پیش داور اندازیم

بهشت عدن اگر خواهی بیا با ما به میخانه

که از پای خمت روزی به حوض کوثر اندازیم

سخندانیّ و خوشخوانی نمی‌ورزند در شیراز

بیا حافظ که تا خود را به ملکی دیگر اندازیم

Тоҷикӣ:

Биё, то гул барафшонему май дар соғар андозем, 

Фалакро сақф бишкофему тарҳе нав дарандозем. 

Агар ғам лашкар ангезад, ки хуни ошиқон резад, 

Ману соқӣ ба ҳам созему бунёдаш барандозем. 

Шароби арғавониро гулоб андар қадаҳ резем, 

Насими атргардонро шакар дар миҷмар андозем. 

Чу дар даст аст руде хӯш, бизан, мутриб, суруде хӯш, 

Ки дастафшон ғазал хонему покӯбон сар андозем. 

Сабо, хоки вуҷуди мо бад-он олиҷаноб андоз, 

Бувад, к-он шоҳи хубонро назар бар манзар андозем. 

Яке аз ақл мелофад, дигар томот мебофад, 

Биё, к-ин довариҳоро ба пеши довар андозем. 

Биҳишти адн агар хоҳӣ, биё бо мо ба майхона, 

Ки аз пои хумат рӯзе ба ҳавзи Кавсар андозем. 

Сухандониву хушхонӣ намеварзанд дар Шероз, 

Биё, Ҳофиз, ки то худро ба мулке дигар андозем.

Romanization:

Biā tā gul barafšānēm　　
o may dar sāɣar andāzēm　　
　　Falakrā saqf biškāfēm
　　o tarhē naw darandāzēm
Agar ɣam laškar angēzad　　
ki xūn-i 'āšiqān rēzad　　
　　Man o sāqī ba ham tāzēm
　　o bunyādaš barandāzēm
Šarāb-i arɣawānīrā　　 
gulāb andar qadah rēzēm　　
　　Nasīm-i 'atrgardānrā
　　šakar dar mijmar andāzēm
Čo dar dastast rūdē xwaš　　
bizan mutrib surūdē xwaš　　
　　Ki dastafšān ɣazal xwānēm
　　o pākōbān sar andāzēm.
Sabā xāk-i wujūd-i mā　　
badān 'ālī janāb andāz　　
　　Buwad kān šāh-i xūbānrā
　　nazar bar manzar andāzēm
Yakē az 'aql mēlāfad　　
yakē tāmāt mēbāfad　　
　　Biā kīn dāwarīhārā
　　ba pēš-i dāwar andāzēm
Bahišt-i 'adn agar xwāhī 　　
biā bā mā ba mayxāna　　
　　Ki az pāy-i xumat rōzē
　　ba hawz-i kawsar andāzēm
Suxandānī o xwašxwānī　　
namēwarzand dar šērāz　　
　　Biā hāfiz ki tā xwadrā
　　ba mulkē dīgar andāzēm

Hafiz: Ghazal 220 "Aspirations" (From Persian)

I have included a prose paraphrase this time with my verse translation. Because I felt like it.

Ghazal 220 "Aspirations" 
By Hafiz
Translated by A.Z. Foreman

Although our preacher will not like　
to hear such honesty,　
　　He'll never be a Muslim while　
　　he's such a pharisee.　
Learn to get drunk, be a gentleman　
not some dumb animal　
　　That cannot drink a drop of wine 　
　　or be a man at all. 　
The essence must be unalloyed　
to make His grace our own,　
　　Or from our clay no pearls will come
　　nor coral come from stone. 　
The Almighty shall fulfill His will.　
rejoice, my heart! No con　
　　Or devilry can turn a demon　
　　into a Solomon. 　
Mine is the noble art of love.　　
I hope against belief　　
　　This craft won't bring, as others brought,　　
　　despondency and grief.　　
Last night he said "Tomorrow I　　
will grant your heart's desire"　　
　　God let him have no change of heart
　　nor let him be a liar.
May God add a good heart to all　　
your physical attraction　　
　　So you'll no longer torment me 
　　with harrowing distraction.
Hafiz! Unless a mote of dust　　
aspires to lofty height,　　
　　It is not drawn to the true fount
　　from which the sun draws light.


Prose paraphrase:

(1) Though the city preacher won't find it easy to hear these words, as long as he practices sophistry and hypocrisy, he'll never be a real Muslim. (2) Train yourself in dissolute drunkenness, and be a gentleman to others. For not so artful is the beast that does not drink wine, or become human. (3) There must be a pure-gemmed essence in order to be a vessel for holy grace, for without it stone and clay will not become pearl and coral. (4) He of the Greatest Name does his work - be glad O heart, for by no trick or fraud can a devil ever become Solomon. (5) I practice love, and hope that this noble art will not, as other arts have done, cause me chagrin. (6)  Last night he was saying "Tomorrow I will give you your heart's desire." Oh God, contrive to keep him from having compunction about doing so! (7) For my own sake I pray God include in your beauty a good disposition, so that my mind is no longer distraught and discombobulated. (8) So long as the dustmote lacks lofty aspiration and drive, Hafiz, it is not in quest for the source that is the resplendent sun's own dayspring.   

Notes:

Verse 1: The word for hypocrisy, sālūs is identical to one of the words for the Christian trinity (though they are spelled differently in Perso-Arabic script.) Hypocrisy, for Hafiz, is a cardinal sin against the divine, and this may be a punny way of equating it with the dilution of monotheism, as the triune God of Christianity was, and indeed still is, generally seen by Muslims as a sketchy traducement of God's essential oneness. I myself get the sense that such punctilios as the dubious nature of the trinity (as well as all the things that you have to do or think to be a "true" Muslim) might have been precisely the sort of thing a pietistic preacher would rant about from the pulpit. The real sin isn't the Christian's sālūs (trinity) that would offend the preacher, but rather the preacher's own sālūs (hypocrisy) that offends Hafiz. Thus the preacher who might rant about what makes a proper Muslim is himself failing to measure up.          

Verse 3: See Qur'an [55:19-22]

Verse 7:  Many recensions of this poem have husn-i xulqē zi Xudā mētalabam xōy-i turā "I seek of God a fine disposition for your character", which does not make overmuch sense as xulq and xōy are more or less synonyms. Khanlārī prefers the variant ending in husn-i turā "to your beauty" which seems much more compelling to me. This version makes it clear that the speaker is asking for the beloved to be as good in heart as he is good to look at, for if so he will satisfy the lover's desire rather than making him yearn tormentedly. It also adds a nice bit of wordplay. For ḥusn-i xulq is also a technical term for "virtue of character" in a religious and ethical sense. Hafiz, though, is enjoining the beloved to keep his word and do something which, however pleasurable, is rather at odds with what the jurist would deem virtuous.       


The Original:

گر چه بر واعظ شهر این سخن آسان نشود تا ریا ورزد و سالوس مسلمان نشود

رندی آموز و کرم کن که نه چندان هنر است حیوانی که ننوشد می و انسان نشود

گوهر پاک بباید که شود قابل فیض ور نه هر سنگ و گلی لوءلوء و مرجان نشود

اسم اعظم بکند کار خود ای دل خوش باش که به تلبیس و حیل دیو سليمان نشود

عشق می‌ورزم و امید که این فن شریف چون هنرهای دگر موجب حرمان نشود

دوش می‌گفت که فردا بدهم کام دلت سببی ساز خدایا که پشیمان نشود

حسن خلقی ز خدا می‌طلبم حسن ترا تا دگر خاطر ما از تو پریشان نشود

ذره را تا نبود همت عالی حافظ
طالب چشمه خورشید درخشان نشود

Romanization:

Gar či bar wā'iz-i šahr īn suxan āsān našawad
Tā riā warzad o sālūs musalmān našawad
Rindī āmōz o karam kun ki na čandān hunarast
Hayawānē ki nanōšad may o insān našawad
Gawhar-i pāk bibāyad, ki šawad qābil-i fayz,
War na har sang o gilē lu'lu' o marjān našawad.
Ism-i a'zam bukunad kār-i xwad ay dil, xwaš bāš
Ki ba talbīs o hayal dēw Sulaymān našawad
'Išq mēwarzam o ummēd ki īn fann-i šarīf
Čūn hunarhā-i digar mawjib-i hirmān našawad
Dōš mēguft ki fardā bidiham kām-i dilat
Sababē sāz Xudāyā ki pašēmān našawad
Husn-i xulqē zi Xudā mētalabam husn-i turā
Tā digar xātar-i mā az to parēšān našawad
Zurrarā tā nabuwad himmat-i 'ālī hāfiz
Tālib-i čašma-i xwaršēd-i duruxšān našawad

Тоҷикӣ:

Гарчи бар воизи шаҳр ин сухан осон нашавад, 

То риё варзаду солус, мусулмон нашавад. 

Риндӣ омӯзу карам кун, ки на чандон ҳунар аст, 

Ҳаявоне, ки нанӯшад маю инсон нашавад. 

Гавҳари пок бибояд, ки шавад қобили файз, 

Варна ҳар сангу гиле лӯълӯву марҷон нашавад. 

Исми аъзам бикунад кори худ, эй дил, хуш бош 

Ки ба талбису ҳиял дев Сулаймон нашавад. 

Ишқ меварзаму уммед, ки ин фанни шариф, 

Чун ҳунарҳои дигар мӯҷиби хирмон нашавад. 

Дӯш мегуфт, ки фардо бидиҳам коми дилат, 

Сабабе соз, Худоё, ки пашемон нашавад. 

Ҳусни хулқе зи Худо металабам ҳусни туро, 

То дигар хотири мо аз ту парешон нашавад. 

Зарраро то набувад ҳиммати олӣ, Ҳофиз, 

Толиби чашмаи хуршеди дурахшон нашавад. 

Hafiz: Ghazal 36 "Fuck Off" (From Persian)

Ghazal 36: Fuck Off
By Hafiz
Translated by A.Z. Foreman

Go and mind your own business, preacher!　 
What's all this ado?　 
　　It's true my heart has left your path 
　　but what is that to you? 
Until his lips have played me like　　 
the flute I love to hear　　 
　　The world's advice will be mere wind 
　　abluster in my ear. 
There in his bodied being which God　　 
created out of naught　　 
　　Is a crux that nobody in all 
　　creation can unknot. 　    
A beggar in your street disdains   　　
eight heavens, and is not vexed.¹ 　　
　　The captive your locks hold is free 
　　of this world and the next.
Oh even if I have fallen wasted　　 
drunk on love for you,　　 
　　My being built upon that waste 
　　will stand forever true.  
Please heart, do not bewail the Friend's　　 
injustice and cruel whim.　　 
　　This fate that Friend has meted out 
　　is just for you from him.　　 
Go! No more cant or incantation,　 　　 
The tall tales that you tell.... 　
　　I've heard that mummery before. 
　　I know it all too well.² 

Notes:

1 - Eight heavens:  in medieval cosmology the earth was conceived as the center of the universe surrounded by eight concentric heavens or "eternal spheres" (khuld)

2 - I translated this last verse very freely. So much so, in fact, that I feel the need to make full disclosure in a footnote. The original literally reads:

　　Go, and don't recite parables/fables or breathe (fraudulent) incantations, Hafiz:
　　For of these tales and incantations I have many in memory.

A few points of note:

In Hafiz' lyrics, the word hāfiz suggests any one (or any combination) of a number of things, including a Qur'an-reciter who knows the holy book from memory, a singer of secular verses and the poet himself.

The direct address to hāfiz here in the final verse of the poem also parallels, and contrasts with, the address to a wā'iz or "preacher" in the first, both of which also begin with the imperative biraw "go, begone!" Hafiz in a handful of other poems contrasts hāfiz with wā'iz within a single verse, often as internal rhymes, and his poetic persona generally sees himself as the genuine antithesis of the disingenuous preacher. It stands to reason, therefore, that if Hafiz is addressing himself in the second person, his prohibitions are against doing as the preacher does.

"Breathing incantations" calls to mind "the women who breathe on knots" (al-naffāθātu fī l-ˁuqad) from the Qur'an, traditionally understood to be witches who blew on knots in order to induce magical spells, a pre-Islamic Arabian "pagan" practice condemned by Muhammad, implying that the voluble behavior being enjoined against (in my view implicitly attributed to the preacher one way or another) is itself beyond the bounds of proper conduct, and in a far more serious way than Hafiz' libertinism.          
I could go on for several paragraphs, but suffice it to say that the overall sentiment motivating these polysemous lines seems to me to be more or less something like this: "I should just be on my way, not sink to the level of the empty, ritualized, superstitious mumbo-jumbo of this well-regarded hypocrite of a preacher. I know this charlatan's material well enough to see through him. I know my scripture and my faith, and I don't need him to tell me what I ought to be doing. Sure, I may be flawed, and maybe I do love wine, boys and song a bit too much. But at least I'm not pretending to be perfect like this pietistic prick. God didn't make me what I am just so I could pretend to be what I'm not."
          



The Original:

برو به کار خود ای واعظ! این چه فریادست؟

مرا فتاد دل از ره، تو را چه افتادست؟

به کام تا نرساند مرا لبش چون نای

نصیحت همه عالم به گوشِ من باد است

میان او که خدا آفریده‌است از هیچ

دقیقه‌ایست که هیچ آفریده نگشادست

گدای کوی تو از هشت خُلدْ مستغنیست

اسیر عشق تو از هر دو عالم آزادست

اگر چه مستیِ عشقم خراب کرد ولی

اساس هستی من زآن خرابْ آبادست

دلا منال ز بیداد و جور یار، که یار

تو را نصیب همین کرد و این از آن دادست

برو فَسانه مخوان و فُسون مدم حافظ!

کز این فسانه و افسون مرا بَسی یادست

Tajik Cyrillic

Бирав ба кори худ, эй воиз, ин чӣ фарёд аст? 

Маро фитод дил аз раҳ, туро чӣ афтодаст? 

Ба ком то нарасонад маро лабаш, чун ной,
Насиҳати ҳама олам ба гӯши ман бод аст.

Миёни ӯ, ки Худо офарида аст аз ҳеҷ, 

Дақиқаест, ки ҳеҷ офарида накшодаст. 

Гадои кӯи ту аз ҳашт хулд мустағнист, 

Асири ишқи ту аз ҳар ду олам озод аст. 

Агарчи мастии ишқам хароб кард, вале 

Асоси ҳастии ман з-он хароб обод аст. 

Дило, манол зи бедоду ҷаври ёр, ки ёр 

Туро насиб ҳамин карду ин аз он дод аст. 

Бирав, фасона махону фусун мадам, Ҳофиз, 

К-аз ин фасонаву афсун маро басе ёд аст. 

Romanization:

Biraw ba kār-i xwad, ay wā'iz, īn či faryād ast?

Marā futād dil az rah, turā či uftād ast?

Ba kām tā narasānad marā labaš čūn nāy,

Nasīhat-i hama 'ālam ba gōš-i man bād ast. 

Miān-i ō, ki xudā āfarīda ast az hēč,

Daqīqaēst, ki hēč āfarīda nagšād ast.

Gadā-i kō-i to az hašt xuld mustaɣnīst,

Asīr-i 'išq-i to az har do 'ālam āzād ast.

Agar či mastī-i 'išqam xarāb kard, walē

Asās-i hastī-i man zān xarāb ābād ast.

Dilā manāl zi bēdād o jawr-i yār, ki yār

Turā nasīb hamīn kard o īn az ān dād ast.

Biraw fasāna maxwān o fusūn madam, hāfiz,

Kaz īn fasāna o afsūn marā basē yād ast.

Hafiz: Ghazal 194 "Against Sufistry" (From Persian)

Ghazal 194: Against Sufistry
By Hafiz
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
Click to hear me recite the original Persian

These pulpiteers who like to preach 　
with public piety　　
　　Indulge in very different things
　　at home in privacy.
My problem is a question. Ask　
the wisest: how do these　　
　　Enforcers of repentance live
　　so unrepentantly?
Who can believe in their belief 　　
in God, or Judgment day　　
　　When all their judgments in His name 　　
　　are fraud and jugglery? 　　
I serve the master of the ruins　　
whose poor have all they need　　
　　To teach the needy rich a lesson
　　in humility.
These nouveaux-riches all flaunt their mules　　
and Turkish slaves! O Lord　　
　　Get these jackasses saddled up
　　and get them gone from me!
O Angels, say your prayers before　　
love's wineshop door, for there　　
　　Was Adam's clay shaped for the ferment　　
　　of humanity.
No sooner does a lover fall　　
slain by his boundless beauty,  　　
　　Than slews of others born by love
　　rise from eternity.
Rise, Sufis, for the Magian  　　
wine-temple and receive　　
　　The quenching spirit that revives
　　the heart to revelry.
Empty your house, my heart. Make room　　
for his most royal court.　　
　　Since ravening fools make heart and soul
　　a bivouac in me.  
At dawn a cry came from the throne　　
of heaven, and Reason said　　
　　"The angels must be chanting Hafiz'
　　Verse from memory."

The Original:

واعظان کین جلوه در محراب و منبر می کنند
چون به خلوت می روند آن کار دیگرمی کنند

مشکلی  دارم  ز دانشمند  مجلس  باز  پرس
توبه فرمایان  چرا خود توبه کمتر  می کنند

گوئیا   باور نمی دارند  روز داوری
کاین همه قلب ودغل در کار داور می کنند

بنده  پیر خراباتم که  درویشان  او
گنج را  از  بی نیازی خاک بر سر  می کنند

یارب  این  نو دولتان را با خر خودشان نشان
کاین  همه  ناز  از غلام ترک استر می کنند

بر  در  میخانه  عشق  ای  ملک   تسبیح  گو
کاندر   آنجا طینت  آدم  مخمر می کنند

حسن  بی  پایان او  چندانکه  عاشق می کشد
زمره  دیگر بعشق  از غیب سر بر می کنند

ای   گدای  خانقه  برجه  که  در دیر  مغان
میدهند  آبی  که  دلها  را  توانگر  می کنند

خانه  خالی  کن  دلا  تا منزل  سلطان شود
کین هوسناکان دل وجان جای لشگر  می کنند

صبحدم  از  عرش  می آمد  خروشی  عقل  گفت
قدسیان گوئی که شعر حافظ از بر می کنند

Romanization:

Wā'izān k-īn jalwa dar mihrāb o minbar mēkunand

Čūn ba xalwat mērawand ān kār-i dīgar mēkunand

Muškilē dāram zi dānišmand-i majlis bāzpurs:

Tawbafarmāyān čarā xwad tawba kamtar mēkunand?

Gōē̆ā bāwar namēdārand rōz-i dāwarī,

K-īn hama qalb o daɣal dar kār-i dāwar mēkunand.

Banda-i pīr-i xarābātam ki darwēšān-i ō

Ganjrā az bēniāzī xāk bar sar mēkunand.

Yā rab īn nawdawlatānrā bar xar-i xwadšān nišān,

K-īn hama nāz az ɣulām-i turk o astar mēkunand

Bar dar-i mayxāna-i 'išq ay malak tasbīh gō

K-andar ānjā tīnat-i ādam muxammar mēkunand

Husn-i bēpāyān-i ō čandān, ki 'āšiq mēkušad

Zumra-i dīgar ba 'išq az ɣayb sar bar mēkunand

Ay gadā-i xānaqah barjah ki dar dayr-i muɣān

Mēdahand ābē o dilhārā tawāngar mēkunand

Xāna xālī kun dilā tā manzil-i sultān šawad

K-īn hawasnākān dil o jān jā-i lašgar mēkunand

Subhdam az 'arš mēāmad xurōšē 'aql guft

Qudsī̆ān gōī ki ši'r-i hāfiz az bar mēkunand

Hafiz: Ghazal 40 "Thanks be to God..." (From Persian)

Ghazal 40: "Thanks be to God..." 
By Hafiz
Translated by A.Z. Foreman

Thanks be to God that at long last the wine-shop's door　　
　　Is open, since it's what I'm longing, headed for.
The jars are clamoring, bubbling with intoxication.　　
　　The wine they hold is real and not a metaphor.¹
It brings me drunkenness and pride and dissipation　　
　　I bring my helplessness, and desperate need for more.
A secret I've not told to others, nor will tell,　　
　　I'll tell my Friend. With him a secret is secure.
It's no short story. It describes each twist and turn　　
　　In my beloved's hair. For lovers have much lore.
Majnún's heart fell for Layla's curls,² as King Mahmoud's　　
　　Face fell at slave Ayáz's feet forevermore.³
I, like a hawk, have sealed my eyes to all this world,　　
　　To catch sight of your face, the beauty I adore.
Whoever wanders in the Ka'ba of your street,　　
　　Your eyebrow is the Qibla he must pray before. 
        　　Friends who would know why humbled Hafiz' heart is burning,
　　　　Ask candles why they melt about a burning core.

Footnotes:

^{1 -} As Wheeler Thackston writes in A Millennium of Classical Persian Poetry:

One of the major difficulties Persian poetry poses to the novice reader lies in the pervasion of poetry by mysticism. Fairly early in the game the mystics found that they could "express the ineffable" in poetry much better than in prose. Usurping the whole of the poetic vocabulary that had been built up by that time, they imbued every word with mystical signification. What had begun as liquid wine with alcoholic content became the "wine of union with the godhead" on which the mystic is "eternally drunk." Beautiful young cupbearers with whom one might like to dally became shāhids, "bearers of witness" to the dazzling beauty of that-which-truly-exists. After the mystics had wrought their influence on the tradition, every word of the poetic vocabulary had acquired such "clouds" of associated meaning from lyricism and mysticism that the two strains merged into one. Of course some poets wrote poetry that is overtly and unmistakably mystical and "Sufi." It is much more difficult to identify poetry that is not mystical. It is useless to ask, for instance, whether Hāfiz's poetry is "Sufi poetry" or not. The fact is that in the fourteenth century it was impossible to write a ghazal that did not reverberate with mystical overtones forced on it by the poetic vocabulary itself.

It is for this reason that Hafiz might feel he had reason to go so far as to explicitly state that the wine here is not a metaphor. He short-circuits the mystical tradition by acknowledging, and negating it.
It is not easy to pinpoint what, exactly, distinguishes Hafiz from his contemporaries and predecessors. My sense is that Hafiz, somewhat like Pushkin, inherited a tradition that happened to accord with his own temperament and needs, as well as his time and place, so perfectly that all of that tradition's conventions came more naturally to him than to his predecessors, and he was thus able to breathe great freshness and scope into a storehouse of ideas that were in and of themselves neither new nor unique to him. Heterodoxy is praised and vaunted in the ghazal, but Hafiz was heterodox. Likewise wine is praised as a matter of tradition, but Hafiz really did love wine that much. And so forth. Then again, given that there isn't much about Hafiz' life that we can know other than what clues in his own poems tell us, I may be open to the charge of circular reasoning there.
On this point, there are two things worth mentioning here with regard to the poem at hand. First, Hafiz likes wine. Though the theme of wine-drinking, real or metaphorical, was not new to Persian poetry, no poet before Hafiz had made wine (both real and not) and the bacchanalian scene such an integral, constant and almost obsessive part of his verse. Second: Hafiz likes sticking it to The Man when he can get away with it. His poetry is full of verses and even whole poems which blast or mock the religious establishment, which he seems to have viewed as laden with hypocrisy. While antinomianism and anti-clericalism likewise had long been part of the ghazal tradition (and indeed can be shown to have Sufi origins), it is generally agreed that in no other medieval Persian poet of his time or earlier do we find so much verse devoted to unmasking pietism, poking fun at the hypocrisy of religious authorities, and scandalizing orthodox sensibilities by praising what is normally disreputable, and casting aspersions on what is normally revered. Lines that flaunt their deviance or impiety, or indulge in wanton profanation of the sacred in Hafiz' work seem less the usual dutiful and fashionable flirtations with heterodoxy of other poets, and more chosen for their shock-value. Demystifying a normally mystically-tinted beverage would also seem to be quite in keeping with this aspect of Hafiz' temperament.

² - Majnūn and Laylā: famous fictional lovers in Islamicate cultures often mentioned as a paradigm of love (rather as Romeo and Juliet are in English-speaking ones.) Majnūn fell in love with Layla when the two were young, and asked to marry her. Majnūn however, was so obsessed with Layla, so ardently in love with her and so ceaseless in professing that love, that Layla's father believed him to be mentally unbalanced and so refused to allow it, choosing another to marry her instead. On hearing that Layla had been married to another and was traveling with him, Majnun left his tribe and started wandering aimlessly in the wilderness in search of her, never to return to his tribe. She took ill and eventually died of longing for him. His dead body was eventually found at the grave where she had been buried.

³ -Mahmūd and Ayāz: another amorous pair, the most celebrated gay couple in all of medieval Persia. Mahmud of Ghazna (971-1030) was a Ghaznavid king who fell passionately in love with his slave Ayāz, though he also had a wife, Jahān Kawsarī, by whom he had two heirs. So great was Mahmūd's love for the handsome slave that he made him general of the royal army, and eventually installed him as the first Muslim governor of Lahore, which Mahmud had recently conquered. According to an anecdote famous at the time (though which likely hasn't a whit of historical truth to it) King Mahmūd once asked Ayāz "do you know of any king greater or mightier than I?" Ayāz responded "Yes, I am a king greater than you." Mahmūd demanded proof for such an outrageous claim. Ayāz replied thus: "though you are a king, you are a slave to your heart, and I, though a slave, am king of that heart."
Both couples were the inspiration for many poems and songs, and both are commonly referenced in Persian poetry. Yet Laylā and Majnūn are a fictional heterosexual Arab couple who fell in love as children, whose love remained unconsummated, and who never loved anyone except one another.
Mahmūd and Ayāz are a historical homosexual Turkic couple who fell in love in adulthood, whose love was consummated, and whose relationship was not exclusive. Furthermore, the story of Laylā and Majnūn is one which focuses on Majnūn,  the pursuer, as the ideal, or at least paradigmatic, lover. The story of Mahmūd and Ayāz, on the other hand, focuses, as do most literary allusions to the couple, on Ayāz, the pursued, conceived as the ideal beloved. In mentioning these two contrasting couples in parallel fashion, Hafiz is delineating the great range of possible forms love may take, and the possible points of view from which one can conceive and experience it.

The Original:

المنة لله که در میکده باز است　　زان رو که مرا بر در او روی نیاز است

خم‌ها همه در جوش و خروشند ز مستی　　وان می که در آن جاست حقیقت نه مجاز است

از وی همه مستی و غرور است و تکبر　　وز ما همه بیچارگی و عجز و نیاز است

رازی که بر غیر نگفتیم و نگوییم　　با دوست بگوییم که او محرم راز است

شرح شکن زلف خم اندر خم جانان　　کوته نتوان کرد که این قصه دراز است

بار دل مجنون و خم طرۀ لیلی　　رخسارۀ محمود و کف پای ایاز است

بردوخته‌ام دیده چو باز از همه عالم　　تا دیده من بر رخ زیبای تو باز است

در کعبۀ کوی تو هر آن کس که بیاید　　از قبلۀ ابروی تو در عین نماز است

　　　　　　ای مجلسیان سوز دل حافظ مسکین   

　　　　　　از شمع بپرسید که در سوز و گداز است

Tajik Cyrillic: 

Алминнату лиллаҳ, ки дари майкада боз аст, 

3-он рӯ, ки маро бар дари ӯ рӯи ниёз аст. 

Хумҳо ҳама дар ҷӯшу хурӯшанд зи мастӣ 

В-он май, ки дар он ҷост, ҳақиқат, на маҷоз аст. 

Аз вай ҳама мастиву ғурур асту такаббур 

В-аз мо ҳама бечорагиву аҷзу ниёз аст. 

Розе, ки бари ғайр нагуфтему нагӯем, 

Бо дӯст бигӯем, ки ӯ маҳрами роз аст. 

Шарҳи шикани зулфи хам андар хами ҷонон 

Кӯтаҳ натавон кард, ки ин қисса дароз аст. 

Бори дили Маҷнуну хами турраи Лайлӣ, 

Рухсораи Маҳмуду кафи пои Аёз аст. 

Бардӯхтаам дида, чу боз, аз ҳама олам, 

То дидаи ман бар рухи зебои ту боз аст. 

Дар Каъбаи кӯи ту ҳар он кас, ки биёяд, 

Аз Қиблаи абрӯи ту дар айни намоз аст. 

Эй маҷлисиён, сӯзи дили Ҳофизи мискин 

Аз шамъ бипурсед, ки дар сӯзу гудоз аст.

Romanization:

Alminnatulillah ki dar-i maykada bāzast,
Zān rō, ki marā bar dar-i ō rōy-i niyāzast.
Xumhā hama dar jōš o xurōšand zi mastī
Wān may, ki dar ānjāst, haqīqat, na majāzast.
Az way hama mastī o ɣurūrast o takabbur
Waz mā hama bēčāragī o 'ajz o niyāzast.
Rāzē ki bar-i ɣayr naguftēm o nagōyēm,
Bā dōst bigōyēm, ki ō mahram-i rāzast.
Šarh-i šikan-i zulf-i xam andar xam-i jānān
Kōtah natawān kard, ki īn qissa darāzast.
Bār-i dil-i Majnūn o xam-i turra-i Laylī
Ruxsāra-i Mahmūd o kaf-i pāy-i Ayāzast.
Bardōxtaam dīda, čo bāz, az hama 'ālam,
Tā dīda-i man bar rux-i zēbā-i to bāzast.
Dar Ka'ba-i kōy-i to har ān kas ki biāyad
Az qibla-i abrō-i to dar 'ayn-i namāzast
Ay majlisīān, sōz-i dil-i Hāfiz-i maskīn
Az šam' bipursēd, ki dar sōz o gudāzast. 

Hafiz: Ghazal 42 "Lament for Drinks Past" (From Persian)

Written sometime between 1353 and 1358 A.D. I tried out a slightly different technique for rendering the Persianate monorhyme. Because Persian rhymes tend to be more prominent (due to the common use of phrasal rhyme) I have employed a mixture of assonance and full rhyme. Every four lines of mine correspond to one verse of Persian. Every fourth line of mine rhymes in /i:z/ as every verse of Persian rhymes in /e:z ast/. Because rhymes with nuclear /i:/ are the easiest to employ in English this seemed like I was cheating a bit, and like the rhyme was still not prominent enough. So additionally, every second line ALSO contains assonance with the nuclear vowel /i:/. (Except for the first verse where I use even fuller rhyming.) This should hopefully make it work more like sung lyric does in contemporary English, as after all Hafiz' verses were sung in his own day, and it was transmission by (often illiterate) singers that probably gained him the fame that he occasionally boasts of. At the same time, having full rhyme to give a more prominent finality to the points corresponding to verse-ends in Persian seemed like it would do nicely, and would be a way of respecting the fact that the lyric verse-unit of the medieval Islamicate world was characterized more by external than internal rhyme. I don't always try and approximate the monorhymes of Chinese, Persian, Urdu, Turkish, Arabic or Medieval Hebrew verse. But when I do, I copy a meme phrase from the most interesting man in the world.

Ghazal 42: Lament for Drinks Past
By Hafiz
Translated by A.Z. Foreman

Though wine be pleasing and the breeze 　
be rife with roses, we must cease　
　　Drinking to harp music, for here 
　　come the sharp-eared sharia police.¹
If you find wine and a fine friend 　
to drink with, drink, but be discreet. 　
　　The times we're living in are dire 
　　days of oppression and caprice. 
Gather no more in public. Hide 　
the wineglass up your ragged sleeve.　
　　For as your flask weeps wine, the times
　　are shedding all the blood they please. 
With salt tears we must wash the sweet  　
red stain of wine out of our cloaks,　
　　For 'tis the season to be sober,
　　time to abstain and bend our knees. 
O turn not to the turning heavens　
for any comfort or relief.　　
　　The very brim of that cruel bowl
　　is soiled with the godawful lees.
The heavens have become a sieve　
that strains blood upon you and me　
　　Filled with the skulls of Persian kings,
　　the severed crown of dead Parviz.²  
You've made a captive of Iraq 　
and Fars with well-versed song, Hafiz!　
　　Move on. It's time you did a number  
　　at court in Baghdad or Tabriz.³

Notes:

1 - This verse is one of many references in Hafiz' poetry to the rule of the Muzaffarid king Mubāriz al-Dīn Muhammad, a cruel and anhedonic royal pain in the ass. Mubāriz al-Dīn had conquered Shiraz from the last of the Injuids, Hafiz' beloved former patron Abū Ishāq, and executed him. Ever the orthodox pietist, he had ordered the closing of all wineshops and prohibited many religiously illicit pleasures, including song and dance.

2 - "Persian kings" is my addition, replacing Kisrā (Arabic for "Khusraw") in the original. Khusraw is a more or less general term for pre-Islamic Persian rulers, whereas Parviz refers to the last great king of the Sassanid empire. These terms are used here to evoke the kings whom Mubāriz al-Dīn fought, such as Abū Ishāq. There may also be an implication that Mubāriz al-Dīn's Persianness is suspect, that no True Persian king would be so draconian and cruel in forcing compliance with Islamic law upon his subjects. This is all the more poignant given that Abū Ishāq styled himself a Shahanshah in the Sassanid tradition.

3- Fars, with its capital of Shiraz, was Hafiz' stomping ground. The term "Iraq" in Hafiz' time referred to what is today western Iran. Baghdad and Tabriz were the winter and summer courts of King Uways Jalāyir, an enemy of Mubāriz al-Dīn and avid patron of the arts, who took a more tolerant position toward wine, boys and song. Hafiz is giving the reigning potentate a verbal nudge, warning him that he can take his services elsewhere. 



The Original:

اگر چه باده فرح بخش و باد گل‌بیز است　　به بانگ چنگ مخور می که محتسب تیز است

صراحی ای و حریفی گرت به چنگ افتد　　به عقل نوش که ایام فتنه انگیز است

در آستین مرقع پیاله پنهان کن　　که همچو چشم صراحی زمانه خون‌ریز است

به آب دیده بشوییم خرقه‌ها از می　　که موسم ورع و روزگار پرهیز است

مجوی عیش خوش از دور واژگون سپهر　　که صاف این سر خم جمله دردی آمیز است

سپهر برشده پرویزنیست خون افشان　　که ریزه‌اش سر کسری و تاج پرویز است

عراق و فارس گرفتی به شعر خوش حافظ

بیا که نوبت بغداد و وقت تبریز است

Romanization:

Agar či bāda farahbaxš o bād gulbēzast　

　Ba bāng-i čang maxwar may ki muhtasib tēzast

Surāhīē o harīfē garat ba čang uftad　

　Ba 'aql nōš ki ayyām fitnaangēzast

Dar āstīn-i muraqqa' piyāla pinhān kun　

　Ki hamčo čašm-i surāhī zamāna xūnrēzast

Ba āb-i dīda bišōyēm xirqahā az may　

　Ki mawsim-i wara' o rōzgār-i parhēzast
Majōy 'ayš-i xwaš az dawr-i wāžgūn-i sipihr　

　Ki sāf-i īn sar-i xum jumla durdē āmēzast

Sipihr-i baršuda parwēzanēst xūnafšān　

　Ki rēzaaš sar-i Kisrā o tāj-i Parwēzast

'Irāq o Fārs giriftī ba ši'r-i xwaš Hāfiz　

　Biā ki nawbat-i Baɣdād o waqt-i Tabrēzast

Hafiz: Ghazal 246 "The Night of Power" (From Persian)

The Night of Power, or šab-i qadr (laylatu l-qadr in Arabic) is the night on which, according to Islamic mythology, the first revelations of the Qur'an were made to the prophet Muhammad via the angel Gabriel. Hafez toys with the the term by putting it in an amatory context, while also reinforcing its religious aspect (three of the lines are actually written in Arabic, one of which is an almost exact quotation from the Qur'ān.) The Sufi overtones which had been forced on the Persian lyric vocabulary by the mystical tradition allow both the religious and amatory implications to coexist in quite harmonious yet paradoxical, and surely intentional, balance and tension. The age-old question of whether Hafiz is being amatory or spiritual is badly framed and worse than useless when it comes to poems of his like this one, and the reader would be well-advised to keep in mind that a key feature of Hafez' aesthetic is to undermine notions of consistency. You don't know what the meaning of the poem really is, because there really isn't any one meaning.  Hafiz would be the first to remind us that trying to make too much sense of something, like why I seem to have spelled his name two different ways in this paragraph, might just ruin the fun, and that the meaning of a poem, like the meaning of life itself, does not need to be completely understood for you to enjoy it.

Ghazal 246: The Night of Power
By Hafiz
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
Click to hear me recite the original Persian

It is the Night of Power, the scroll　 　
Of loss is rolled away.　　
　　Salam. All through the night is peace.
　　Peace till the break of day.
My heart in travel on the path 　　
Of love, be strong and true.　　
　　You are to be requited for
　　Each step along that way.
And even though you wound me with　　
Disdain and banishment,　　
　　I'll not repent of what I am:
　　A wanton debauché. 
My heart is gone. I caught not one　　
Sight of its sweet thief's face.　　
　　Such tyranny! Such heartlessness!
　　What else is there to say? 
Dear Lord, O Lord! Restore the light　　
Of morning to my heart.　　
　　The dark of separation's night
　　Has wiped my sight away. 
Hafiz, endure this faithless torment　　
If you seek love and faith.　　
　　Profit in any business means
　　An up-front cost to pay.

The Original: 

شب قدر است و طی شد نامۀ هجر
 سلامٌ فيه حتی مطلع الفجر

دلا در عاشقی ثابت قدم باش  
که در اين ره نباشد کار بی اجر

من از رندی نخواهم کرد توبه  
ولو آذيتنی بالهجر والحجر

برآی ای صبح روشن دل خدارا  
که بس تاريک می‌بينم شب هجر

دلم رفت و نديدم روی دلدار
 فغان از اين تطاول آه از اين زجر

وفا خواهی جفاکش باش حافظ

فإنّ الربح و الخسران فی التجر

Tajik Cyrillic:

Шаби қадрасту тай шуд номаи ҳаҷр,
Саломун фиҳи ҳатто матлаъ-ил фаҷр.
Дило, дар ошиқӣ собитқадам бош,
Ки дар ин раҳ набошад кори бе аҷр.
Ман аз риндӣ нахоҳам кард тавба,
Валав озайтанӣ билҳачри валҳаҷр,
Барой, ай субҳи рӯшандил, Худоро,
Ки бас торик мебинам шаби хаҷр.
Дилам рафту надидам рӯи дилдор,
Фиғон аз ин татовул, оҳ аз ин заҷр.
Вафо хоҳӣ, ҷафокаш бош, Ҳофиз
Фаиннал рабҳа вал ҳисрона филтаҷр.

Romanization:

Šab-i qadr ast o tay šud nāma-i hajr.
Salāmun fīhi ħattā maṭlaˁi l-fajr.
Dilā, dar 'āšiqī sābitqadam bāš,
Ki dar īn rah nabāšad kār-i bē'ajr.
Man az rindī naxwāham kard tawba,
Wa-law āðaytanī bi-l-hijri wa-l-ħajr.
Barāy, ay subh-i rōšandil, xudārā,
Ki bas tārīk mēbīnam, šab-i hajr.
Dilam raft o nadīdam rōy-i dildār.
Fiɣān az īn tatāwul, āh az īn zajr.
Wafā xwāhī, jafākaš bāš, Hāfiz,
Fa'inna l-ribħa wa-l-xusrāna fī l-tajr.

Hafiz: Ghazal 136 "The Grail of Jamshed" (From Persian)

This poem is one of very few ghazals that could in any sense be called "narrative." There is a discernible course of events, beginning with a search which leads the speaker to the Wineshop, where a conversation with the proprietor occurs. The substance of that conversation can be interpreted in various ways, depending to some degree on editorial choices. Most overtly, the topic is the nature of mystical gnosis and how it should and should not be transmitted. Read more loosely, one can see in it a discussion of how openly subversive one can be without endangering one's own life. And there are other interpretations galore. Myself, I find it most illuminating to see the figure of Hallāj as an example of how a charlatan can use the truth (or The Truth) in dishonest and self-serving ways. Or, as Blake put it "a truth that's told with bad intent/ beats all the lies you can invent."

It would be reasonable to suppose that an overtly and unarguably narrative ghazal would present fewer transmission problems than most of Hafiz' lyric poems, since the structure would limit the accretion and transposition of verses. Such a supposition, however, would be quite mistaken. The manuscripts differ in the ordering, number, and content of the verses in this poem as much as any other in Hafiz' divan. The only difference is that, because the poem is narrative and depends on the cumulative effect of verses in their linear totality, the variations matter all the more. The different verse-orderings found in the manuscripts of the poem, the different verses excluded or included in them, and the different variants found for the same verse, alter the poem's meaning considerably.


Ghazal 136: The Grail of Jamshed
By Hafiz
Translated by A.Z. Foreman

For years, my questing heart kept asking me　
　　 where on earth Jamshed's ancient grail could be.
In search of something it already had,　
　　 it supplicated strangers ceaselessly.
It sought a pearl that slipped the temporal shell　
　　 from wayward men that maunder by the sea.
Last night I brought the Wineshop's Sage my problem,　
　　that where I had been blinded, he might see.　
I saw him, laughing, lift a cup of wine　
　　 wherein a thousand visions answered me.
Said I to him: "When did God gift you with　
　　 this grail revealing all reality?"
Said he: "The day His Mind Almighty raised　
　　the heavens' vault of lapis lazuli."
Said he: "Recall the smitten Al-Hallaj  　
　　they hanged on high upon the gallows tree...
His crime was that he told the world of things　
　　meant to be contemplated privately.
His heart was gone for God, though God was there.　
　　He cried O God because he could not see.
His heart held truth, as soil conceals a seed.　
　　His mind put forth glossed leaflets, like a tree.
Moses' white hand would shame his sleights of hand　
　　As once it foiled Pharaonic sorcery.
Were the Holy Ghost to lend its grace again, 　
　　others like Christ would help the blind to see."　
Said I: "Why do the locks of beauty bind me?"　
　　"Because of Hafiz' love-crazed heart" said he.

Notes:

V 1: Jamshed's goblet revealed everything in the world to anyone who looked into it

V 8: Hallāj, a martyr and mystic who was executed in 922 AD in Baghdad, supposedly for having declared ana l-ḥaqq "I am God the Truth." His sleight of hand tricks, which he touted as miracles, are referred to later in the poem.


The Original:

سال ها دل طلبِ جامِ جم از ما مى كرد   وآنچه خود داشت زِ بيگانه تمنّا مى كرد

گَوهَرى كَز صدفِ كون و مكان بيرون است   طلب از گمشدگانِ لبِ دريا مى كرد

مشكلِ خويش بر پيرِ مغان بردم دوش   كو بتأييدِ نظر حلِّ معمّا مى كرد

ديدمش خرَّم و خوش دل قدحِ باده به دست   وندر آن آينه صد گونه تماشا مى كرد

گفت اين جامِ جهان بين به تو كَى داد حكيم   گفت آن روز كه اين گمبدِ مينا مى كرد

گفت آن يار كزو گشت سرِ دار بلند   جرمش اين بود كه اسرار هويدا مى كرد

بيدلى در همه احوال خدا با او بود   او نميديدش و از دور خدايا مى كرد
آنكه چون غنچه دلش رازِ حقيقت بنهفت ورقِ خاطر از اين نكته محشّا مى كرد

اين همه شعبدۀ عقل كه مى كرد اينجا ساحرى پيش عصا و يدِ بيضا مى كرد

فيضِ روح القدس ار باز مدد فرمايد   ديگران هم بكنند آنچه مسيحا مى كرد

گفتمش سلسلۀ زلفِ بتان از پىِ چيست؟   

گفت حافظ گله اى از دلِ شيدا مى كرد

Romanization:

Sālhā dil talab-i jām-i jām az mā mēkard
Wān či xwad dāšt zi bēgāna tamannā mēkard
Gawharē, kaz sadaf-i kawn o makān bērūnast,
Talab az gumšudagān-i lab-i daryā mēkard.
Muškil-i xwēš bar-i pīr- muɣān burdam dōš,
Kō ba ta'yīd-i nazar hall-i mu'ammā mēkard.
Dīdamaš xurram o xwašdil qadah-i bāda ba dast
Wandar ān āyina sad gūna tamāšā mēkard
Guftam "īn jām-i jahānbīn ba to kay dād hakīm"
Guft "ān rōz ki īn gumbad-i mīnā mēkard"
Guft "ān yār kaz ō gašt sar-i dār buland
Jurmaš īn būd ki asrār huwaydā mēkard
Ānki čūn ɣunča dilaš rāz-i haqīqat binahuft
Waraq-i xātir az īn nukta muhaššā mēkard
Bēdilē dar hama ahwāl xudā bā ō būd
Ō namēdīdaš o az dūr xudāyā mēkard.
Īn hama šu'bada-i 'aql ki mēkard īnjā
Sāhirī pēš-i 'asā o yad-i bayzā mēkard
Fayz-i rūh-ul-qudus ar bāz madad farmāyad
Dīgarān ham bukunand ān či masīhā mēkard
Guftamaš: "Silsila-i zulf-i butān az pay-i čīst?"
Guft: "Hāfiz gilaē az dil-i šaydā mēkard."

Hafiz: Ghazal 203 "In Memoriam" (From Persian)

This poem is a lament for Abu Ishaq, the last of the Injuids, a patron whom Hafiz had loved a great deal. After barely a decade of rule in Shiraz, Abu Ishaq was toppled and executed by the Muzaffarid Mubariz al-Din Muhammad. Whereas Abu Ishaq was a sybarite who loved poetry, wine and the funner things of life, Mubariz al-Din was a pietistic killjoy who closed the wine-taverns and attempted to enforce religious orthodoxy in a way that many in Shiraz, including Hafiz, found profoundly unpleasant. 

Ghazal 203: In Memoriam
By Hafiz
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
Click to hear me recite the original Persian

Be it remembered: I lived in
The very street that you lived on. 　
　　　Light of my eyes it was to see
　　　the dust that at your doorway shone.
The lily and the rose we were,　
with a rapport so true and pure  　
　　　That what I uttered with my tongue
　　　and what lay in your heart, were one.
Then when the heart interpreted     　
the teachings Elder Wisdom gave,　
　　　Love's glossary would shed its light
　　　on each hapax legomenon.  
I swore within my heart that I  　
Would never be without my Friend.　
　　　But now my heart and I have strived
　　　and failed, what is there to be done? 
Last night for old time's sake I passed　
our drinking spot, and saw a cask　
　　　Corked in the mud, wine spilt like blood. 
　　　The tears of blood began to run. 
Much though I wondered as I wandered　
why pain of parting had to come,　
　　　The judge of Reason found no reasons
　　　and lost all judgement thereupon.
It's true, the turquoise signet ring¹　
of Bu Ishaq, beloved king,　
　　　Flashed brilliantly. But all that reign 
　　　of fortune was a fleeting one. 
Hafiz, see how the partridge struts
and cackles in his every cluck.　
　　　The falcon-claws he flouts are Laws 
　　　of Fate that he shall not outrun².

Notes:

1- Turquoise was highly prized by Persians as a bringer of good luck. To wear it was said to protect one against evil and bring one prosperity. However it was also said that rulers should not wear turquoise because their glory would be subsumed in that of the stone. 

2 - according to historians, Abu Ishaq's carefree indulgence and pleasure-seeking even as the Muzaffarid army was advancing on Shiraz, was the former's undoing. 



The Original:

یاد باد آن که سر کوی توام منزل بود　دیده را روشنی از خاک درت حاصل بود

راست چون سوسن و گل از اثر صحبت پاک　بر زبان بود مرا آن چه تو را در دل بود

دل چو از پیر خرد نقل معانی می‌کرد　عشق می‌گفت به شرح آن چه بر او مشکل بود

در دلم بود که بی دوست نباشم هرگز　چه توان کرد که سعی من و دل باطل بود

دوش بر یاد حریفان به خرابات شدم　خم می دیدم خون در دل و پا در گل بود

بس بگشتم که بپرسم سبب درد فراق　مفتی عقل در این مسله لایعقل بود

راستی خاتم فیروزۀ بواسحاقی　خوش درخشید ولی دولت مستعجل بود
دیدی آن قهقهۀ کبک خرامان حافظ　

که ز سرپنجۀ شاهین قضا غافل بود

Romanization:

Yād bād ān ki sar-i kūy-i toam manzil būd

Dīdarā rawšanī az xāk-i darat hāsil būd

Rāst čun sawsan o gul az asar-i suhbat-i pāk

Bar zabān būd marā ān či turā dar dil būd

Dil ču az pīr-i xirad naql-i ma'ānī mēkard

Išq mēguft ba šarh ān či bar ō muškil būd

Dar dilam būd ki bēdōst nabāšam hargiz

Či tawān kard ki sa'y-i man o dil bātil būd

Dōš bar yād-i harīfān ba xarābāt šudam  

Xumm-i may dīdam xūn dar dil o pā dar gil būd

Bas bigaštam, ki bipursam sabab-i dard-i firāq

Muftī-i aql dar īn mas'ala lāya'qil būd

Rāstī, xātam-i fērōza-i Bū-Ishāqī

Xwaš diraxšīd walē dawlat-i musta'jil būd.

Dīdī ān qahqaha-i kabk-i xurāmān, Hāfiz,

Ki zi sarpanja-i šāhīn-i qazā ɣāfil būd.

Hafiz: Ghazal 186 "Entreaty to Fakhr-al-Din Abdul Samad" (From Persian)

A somewhat long excursus on this poem and a couple related issues is found after my translation.


Ghazal 186: Entreaty to Fakhr-al-Din Abdul-Samad
By Hafiz
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
With an assist from Julie Scott Meisami's version found in her Structure and Meaning in Medieval Arabic and Persian Lyric Poetry 

O who will be the noble man
to treat me well and loyally 　　　
And just this once do a good turn 
　　　for such a no-good wretch as me,　
Will first, as flute and reedpipe play,
his message to my heart convey
And with a single winecup pay 
　　　me a true act of courtesy?
That heartswipe who wears down my soul 
retains my heart in his control.　　　
I can't lose hope. Might he console 
　　　my heart and treat it lovingly?
Said I: the day has yet to pass 
when I let your hair loose at last.  　　
Said he to me: it's playing fast 
　　　and loose with you by my decree.
The straight and narrow Sufi's mind,
when love stands in plain sight, is blind.　　　
Tell of being wasted. Help him find 
　　　cause to forsake sobriety. 　　　
Love grand as this proved hard to win, 
poor beggar that I've always been.　　　
What Sultan takes a street-lout in
　　　to play and pleasure secretly?
From that sweet, curling crown of hair 
no tyranny is hard to bear. 　　　
What shame in bonds and chains is there 
　　　for one who's lived by knavery?
Grief's countless legions stand arrayed.  
From Fortune I importune aid. 　　　
May gracious Fakhr-al-Dīn be swayed
　　　to ease my grief with sympathy.
　Stay back, Hafez. Don't even try 
　engaging that spellbinding eye.　　　
　Those curling locks, like dark night's sky 
　　　　are roiling with much trickery.

Diffuse excursus on this poem:

One of the problems of literary translation is that the choice of what to translate, and not to translate, is usually motivated by some variation of the question "what would work in the target language with the target audience?" The history of literary translations of Hafiz, mirroring that of translations of classical Persian verse in general, has had the effect of an overfocus (depending on the translator's or target-culture's preference and prejudice) either on the poet's more overtly bacchanalian, threnodic, amorous or anti-authoritarian facets, or the more obviously mystically-tinted and godwardly oriented ones, and of course there are the various intersections of these. But there's more to him. This poem is an example of that, for it has not as far as I know been translated by anyone, apart from the above-mentioned J.S. Meisami, who has not set themselves the task of translating Hafez' works in their entirety. Though not by any means one of Hafiz best works, it is superior to some of the more recognizably hedonistic or mystical (or hedonomystical, if you like) poems that are more frequently translated. It is an entreaty to Fakhr-al-Din ˁAbdul-Samad, presumably a potential patron (whose real-world referent has yet to be satisfactorily triangulated by Hafiz scholars, but then the historical goings on of that turbulent period's politickings are a bit murky anyway.)

The most determinant factor of much medieval Persian poetry was that it was court poetry, and unless they had some other source of support, poets were either in the service of a patron or wishing they were. The result was that much poetry was addressed to sovereigns and other grandees, and nearly all medieval Persian poetry of the period, most especially that of Hafiz the illustrious court poet, is pervaded by a courtly aesthetic. 

In medieval Persian poetic discourse, the heart-ruling beloved and the world-ruling potentate (or the universe-ruling divine by extension) tended to blend, and this poem is an obvious testament to that. Addressing a social or political superior in the poetic voice of an abandoned or desperate lover seems to me to be a common feature of poetry traditions which develop among urbanized elites whose social and political power relationships are bound up within a highly aestheticized court environment. Other examples include the closely related medieval Arabic and the quite unrelated medieval Chinese traditions. 

A word on technical issues. You'll notice that my translation (like many of my translations of Persian lyric poems) is in somewhat stanzaic form and (like all of said translations) has more line-breaks than the included Persian text would appear to have. 

The poem, being a persian ghazal, is monorhymed throughout, with every so-called line carrying the same rhyme ending. Here's the poem in transliterated Latin characters, spaced as it would typically be in a traditional Persian edition. Note the phrasal rhyme /-ārī kunad/

Ān kīst kaz rūy-i karam bā mā wafādārī kunad 　bar jā-i badkārī ču man yakdam nikōkārī kunad

Awwal ba bāng-i nāy u nayy ārad ba dil payɣām-i way　 wāngah ba yak paymāna mayy bā man wafādārī kunad

Dilbar ki jān farsūd az ō kām-i dilam nagšūd az ō 　nawmēd natwān būd az ō bāšad ki dildārī kunad

Guftam: girih nagšūdaam zān turra tā man būdaam 　guftā manaš farmūdaam tā bā tu tarrārī kunad

Pašmīnapōš-i tundxō kaz išq našnīdast bō　 az mastīyaš ramzē bigō tā tark-i hušyārī kunad

Čun man gadā-i bēnišān muškil buwad yārī čunān　 sultān kujā 'ayš-i nihān bā rind-i bāzārī kunad

Zān turra-i pur pēč u xam sahlast agar bīnam sitam 　 az band u zanjīraš či ɣam har kas ki ayyārī kunad

Šud laškar-i ɣam bē'adad az baxt mēxwāham madad 　tā faxr-al-dīn abd us-samad bāšad ki ɣamxwārī kunad

Bā čašm-i pur nayrang-i ō Hāfiz makun āhang-i ō 　

kān turra-i šabrang-i ō bisyār tarrārī kunad

But the natural divisions of the poem are more like this. (Note the many rhymes, phrasal and not.)

Ān kīst kaz rūy-i karam 
bā mā wafādārī kunad 　
bar jā-i badkārī ču man 
　　yakdam nikōkārī kunad

Awwal ba bāng-i nāy u nayy 
ārad ba dil payɣām-i way 
wāngah ba yak paymāna mayy 
　　bā man wafādārī kunad

Dilbar ki jān farsūd az ō 
kām-i dilam naɣšūd az ō 
nawmēd natwān būd az ō 
　　bāšad ki dildārī kunad

Guftam: girih nagšūda-am 
zān turra tā man būda-am 
guftā manaš farmūda-am 
　　tā bā tu tarrārī kunad

Pašmīnapōš-i tundxō 
kaz išq našnīdast bō 
az mastīyaš ramzē bigō
　　tā tark-i hušyārī kunad

Čun man gadā-i bēnišān
muškil buwad yārī čunān 
sultān kujā ayš-i nihān 
　　bā rind-i bāzārī kunad

Zān turra-i pur pēč u xam 
sahlast agar bīnam sitam 
az band u zanjīraš či ɣam
　　har kas ki ayyārī kunad

Šud lašgar-i ɣam bē'adad 
az baxt mēxwāham madad 
tā faxr-al-dīn abd us-samad 
　　bāšad ki ɣamxwārī kunad

Bā čašm-i pur nayrang-i ō 
Hāfiz makun āhang-i ō 
kān turra-i šabrang-i ō 
　　bisyār tarrārī kunad

Like many ghazals that seem to have been written to be sung, the "lines" (I'll explain the quotation marks below) are rhymed internally (a feature termed taṣrīˁ in the Persian and Arabic traditions) and so break down into equivalent metrical chunks with their own rhyme configurations in a pattern that could be called stanzaic or strophic. My translation, obviously, attempts to mimic this. 

It is routinely said of Persian, and of Arabic and many another Islamicate literature besides, that the concept of the stanza is alien to its poetic tradition. The idea that medieval Persians and Arabs had no concept of the stanza is true in the sense that the concept as westerners understand it has no precise analogue in medieval Persians' descriptions of their own literature. But when you get down to it neither does the concept of "a line of verse", really. Broadly speaking/stereotyping, western traditions have, at least since late antiquity, conceived of the verse-line as something which can be, and typically is, part of a larger unit of verse, in which it is linked to other lines by rhyme and/or meter etc. The Persian and Arabic traditions have (again in general/stereotype, and with some important exceptions) operated with something else, called a bayt, with certain formal parameters (one of which is that it end with a rhyme or rhyme-phrase) to be understood not as primarily something of which larger formal units are composed, but which can itself be broken down into (at least) two smaller units which may under various conditions (milage may vary) also be marked by rhyme as well. The bayt is as a rule much longer than the verse-lines of western languages. Bayts written in the most common Persian meters can have around 30 syllables a piece, give or take. The common translation of the term bayt as "line" is ridiculous and inapposite for verse written before the 20th century (the terms "couplet" and "distich" have been used also and, though also inexact, are infinitely more to the point.) Bayt isn't a line of verse. It's just a verse, plain and simple. 

What we have here seems to be a case of scholars assuming an equivalence between what people do and what they say they do.

In fact, scholars ironically instantiate this principle by thinking they're taking an alien tradition on its own terms, but they end up merely once again describing it on their terms - but now by inversion. 

Anyway, of course there are larger units - of a thematic, semantic or other nature - consisting of more than one bayt but less than the entire poem, a fact which I hope is clear to anyone who reads even just the small sampling of Hafiz' verse translated on this site. The idea of atomistic oriental poetics, of bayt being stacked onto bayt "like Orient pearls at random strung" has recently been convincingly demolished (though its votaries are still legion and putting up fight after fight like the denizens of Estakhr under Arab hegemony, but for far less understandable reasons) and is, at best, only valid for certain lyric pieces by certain authors, and in general for certain places and periods. Though the coherence, and progression that are there aren't always of a type that western literatures, since the renaissance anyway, would lead us to expect and recognize. Then again, the inter-stanzaic relationships of verses in medieval Provençal lyric poetry of a non-narrative nature can also be quite varied or even surprising from our post-medieval perspective.  


The Original

آن کیست کز روی کرم با ما وفاداری کند 　بر جای بدکاری چو من یک دم نکوکاری کند

اول به بانگ نای و نی آرد به دل پیغام وی　 وانگه به یک پیمانه می با من وفاداری کند

دلبر که جان فرسود از او کام دلم نگشود از او　 نومید نتوان بود از او باشد که دلداری کند

گفتم گره نگشوده‌ام زان طره تا من بوده‌ام 　گفتا منش فرموده‌ام تا با تو طراری کند

پشمینه پوش تندخو از عشق نشنیده‌است بو　از مستیش رمزی بگو تا ترک هشیاری کند

چون من گدای بی‌نشان مشکل بود یاری چنان　سلطان کجا عیش نهان با رند بازاری کند

زان طره پرپیچ و خم سهل است اگر بینم ستم　از بند و زنجیرش چه غم هر کس که عیاری کند

شد لشکر غم بی عدد از بخت می‌خواهم مدد　تا فخر دین عبدالصمد باشد که غمخواری کند

با چشم پرنیرنگ او حافظ مکن آهنگ او
　کان طره شبرنگ او بسیار طراری کند