Where bloweth a perfumed breeze from the Friend’s hair,The Tartary musk-pods lose the aroma once so rare.Give wine so we may the robe of hypocrisy dye;For we are intoxicated with pride; yet, sober are we, aye.To devise a fancy for Thy tress, fools do not careTo get into the chains of love is what the…
Where is the Cup-bearer, the flagon where?When pleasant hours slip from the hand of Fate,Reckon each hour as a certain gain;Who seeks to know the end of mortal careShall question his experience in vain.Thy fettered life hangs on a single thread–Some comfort for thy present ills devise,But those that time may bring thou shalt not…
Tell not to upset or bring sorrow,Share them with a heart that’s aware.
What patience? Cause what they call the heartIs a drop of blood, and a thousand thought.
Like smoke above a flame caught by the wind,So rose she from my breast and forth she sped.Drunk with desire, I seized Love’s cup divine,But she that held it poured the bitter wineOf Separation into it and fled.The hunter she, and I the helpless prey;Wounded and sick, round me her toils she drew,My heart into…
With its perfume, the morning breeze unlocks those beautiful locksThe curl of those dark ringlets, many hearts to shreds strips.In the house of my Beloved, how can I enjoy the feastSince the church bells call the call that for pilgrimage equips.With wine color your robe, one of the old Magi’s best tipsTrust in this traveler’s…
Though the wine is joyous, and the wind, flowers sortsHarp music and scent of wine, the officer reports.If you face an adversary and a jug of wineChoose the wine because, fate cheats and extorts.Up your ragged, patched sleeves, hide & keep your cupLike this flask of wine, fate too bleeds and distorts.With my teary eyes,…
Washed by three cups, oh Saki, of thy wine,My song shall turn upon this argument.Spring, bride of all the meadows, rises up,Clothed in her ripest beauty: fill the cup!Of Spring’s handmaidens runs this song of mine.The sugar-loving birds of distant Ind,Except a Persian sweetmeat that was broughtTo fair Bengal, have found nought to their mind.See…
For nought is the gear of the world and the strife!One passion has quickened the heart and the soul,The Beloved’s presence alone they have sought–Love at least exists; yet if Love were not,Heart and soul would sink to the common lot–All things are nought!Like an empty cup is the fate of each,That each must fill…
The ear adorned with that elegant ringGems of Hafiz’s poems may earn.
