The Persian Literature - Volume I Part 41
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Volume I Part 41

VI

My heart no longer brooks my hand: sages, aid for G.o.d my woe!

Else, alas! my secret-deep soon the curious world must know.

The bark we steer has stranded: O breeze auspicious swell: We yet may see once more the Friend we love so well.

The ten days' favor of the Sphere--magic is; a tale which lies!

Thou who wouldst befriend thy friends, seize each moment ere it flies.

At night, 'mid wine and flowers, the bulbul tuned his song: "Bring thou the morning bowl: prepare, ye drunken throng!"

Sikander's mirror, once so famed, is the wine-filled cup: behold All that haps in Dara's realm gla.s.sed within its wondrous mould.[7]

O bounteous man, since Heaven sheds o'er thee blessings mild, Inquire, one day at least, how fares Misfortune's child.

What holds in peace this twofold world, let this twofold sentence show: "Amity to every friend, courtesy to every foe."

Upon the way of honor, impeded was my range; If this affect thee, strive my destiny to change.

That bitter, which the Sufi styled "Mother of all woes that be,"[8]

Seems, with maiden's kisses weighed, better and more sweet to me.

Seek drunkenness and pleasure till times of strait be o'er: This alchemy of life can make the beggar Kore.[9]

Submit; or burn thou taper-like e'en from jealousy o'er-much: Adamant no less than wax, melts beneath that charmer's touch.

When fair ones talk in Persian, the streams of life out-well: This news to pious Pirs, my Saki, haste to tell.

Since Hafiz, not by his own choice, This his wine-stained cowl did win, Shaikh, who hast unsullied robes, Hold me innocent of sin.[10]

Arrayed in youthful splendor, the orchard smiles again; News of the rose enraptures the bulbul of sweet strain.

Breeze, o'er the meadow's children, when thy fresh fragrance blows, Salute for me the cypress, the basil, and the rose.

If the young Magian[11] dally with grace so coy and fine, My eye shall bend their fringes to sweep the house of wine.

O thou whose bat of amber hangs o'er a moon below,[12]

Deal not to me so giddy, the anguish of a blow.

I fear that tribe of mockers who topers' ways impeach, Will part with their religion the tavern's goal to reach.

To men of G.o.d be friendly: in Noah's ark was earth[13]

Which deemed not all the deluge one drop of water worth.

As earth, two handfuls yielding, shall thy last couch supply, What need to build thy palace, aspiring to the sky?

Flee from the house of Heaven, and ask not for her bread: Her goblet black shall shortly her every guest strike dead.[14]

To thee, my Moon of Kanaan, the Egyptian throne pertains; At length has come the moment that thou shouldst quit thy chains.

I know not what dark projects those pointed locks design, That once again in tangles their musky curls combine.

Be gay, drink wine, and revel; But not, like others, care, O Hafiz, from the Koran To weave a wily snare!

XII

Oh! where are deeds of virtue and this frail spirit where?

How wide the s.p.a.ce that sunders the bounds of Here and There!

Can toping aught in common with works and worship own?

Where is regard for sermons, where is the rebeck's Tone?[15]

My heart abhors the cloister, and the false cowl its sign: Where is the Magian's cloister, and where is his pure wine?

'Tis fled: may memory sweetly mind me of Union's days!

Where is that voice of anger, where those coquettish ways?

Can a foe's heart be kindled by the friend's face so bright?

Where is a lamp unlighted, and the clear Day-star's light?

As dust upon thy threshold supplies my eyes with balm, If I forsake thy presence, where can I hope for calm?

Turn from that chin's fair apple; a pit is on the way.

To what, O heart, aspir'st thou? Whither thus quickly? Say!

Seek not, O friend, in Hafiz Patience, nor rest from care: Patience and rest--what are they?

Where is calm slumber, where?

XIV

At eve a son of song--his heart be cheerful long!-- Piped on his vocal reed a soul-inflaming lay.

So deeply was I stirred, that melody once heard, That to my tearful eyes the things of earth grew gray.

With me my Saki was, and momently did he At night the sun of Da[16] by lock and cheek display.

When he perceived my wish, he filled with wine the bowl; Then said I to that youth whose track was Fortune's way:

"Saki, from Being's prison deliverance did I gain, When now and now the cup thou lit'st with cheerful ray.

"G.o.d guard thee here below from all the haps of woe; G.o.d in the Seat of Bliss reward thee on His day!"

When Hafiz rapt has grown, How, at one barleycorn, Should he appraise the realm, E'en of Kaus the Kay?[17]