Faces of Love: Hafez and the Poets of Shiraz

by Dick Davis

  Should he light others’ eyes up over there?

  I’ve loved him faithfully for years; but he’s

  Habitually unfaithful everywhere.

  In all the world, no heart is safe from him,

  There’s not a single heart he’d care to spare!

  My fortune led me to delusion’s garden,

  And all that scoundrel said was, “I don’t care.”

  The day we met I gave my soul to him.

  And why? To have him leave me in despair?

  The heart’s the body’s queen; and look, my love,

  At your street’s end – a queen stands begging there.

  WHY, IN YOUR HEART, HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN ME

  And put your loving arms round someone new?

  You think that I don’t know these things? My dear,

  My eyes and ears are always close to you.

  Forgetting friends is not how friends behave –

  It isn’t manly, doing what you do!

  Why do you veil your face from me, my friend?

  A fire’s not normally kept out of view.

  I burn with longing – come to me, my love;

  Bees sting, but then they give us honey too.

  Jahan is ready to give up the ghost;

  How long must she be silent, missing you?

  He said, “Absence is bitter, but your glass

  Contains it; drink – swallow the residue!”

  YOU DON’T KNOW HOW YOU OUGHT TO TREAT A LOVER,

  Not for a moment do you think of me;

  My heart is broken, and it won’t recover,

  Since you won’t show me any sympathy.

  Your only way is to be pitiless,

  Your only path’s the path of tyranny;

  You don’t acknowledge my long faithfulness

  Since you’ve no interest in fidelity.

  You spend all night asleep or drunk, and give

  No thought at all to sleepless, weeping, me –

  And what use are my tears, since all you live

  For’s to be spiteful and act thoughtlessly?

  I didn’t know that when you swore your oath

  Your “Yes” was all that I was going to hear;

  You don’t care for Jahan, while I gave both

  My world and soul into your hands, my dear.

  Submit, my heart, and learn to tolerate

  This grief, since you will find no other fate.

  YOUR FACE IS LIKE A SHINING SUN,

  your stature’s like a cypress tree

  That grows in paradise, and I’m

  your slave; I’ve no wish to be free.

  Be just to me, my love; from your

  bright day bestow one night on me;

  If you’re unjust, be fearful of

  my groans, my wails of misery.

  My heart is in my mouth, because

  of you my soul’s about to flee,

  So tell me, what makes you, my dear,

  so happy and so contrary?

  My lovely moon, my heart has borne

  for you such endless agony;

  Why must you brand my breast again

  with absence, with your leaving me?

  I AM STILL DRUNK THAT YOU WERE HERE,

  and you were mine,

  And once again I stretch my hand out

  for that wine;

  As your drunk eyes could not bestir

  themselves, I too

  Can’t move; as you love wine, I love

  the wine that’s you;

  And I will ask the gentle morning

  breeze to bear

  A message to my love who has

  such musky hair,

  Since that black hair’s sweet scent, from being

  next to me,

  Has made me like a musk deer come

  from Tartary.

  I fainted when you were not here,

  I could not stand –

  Be with me now, my love, support me,

  grasp my hand;

  Oh, I was so distracted, heart-sick,

  that I gave

  My soul into your ringlets’ snare,

  I was your slave;

  My eyes wept tears of blood while you

  were never there,

  My feet were shackled in your curls’

  enclosing snare.

  How sad my heart was then! But, God

  be praised, relief

  Has now arrived for me; I have

  escaped from grief!

  I KNOW YOU THINK THAT THERE ARE OTHER FRIENDS FOR ME THAN YOU:

  Not so.

  And that apart from loving you I’ve other things to do:

  Not so.

  Belovèd, out of pity, take my hand before I fall;

  You think the world can give me other loves to cling on to?

  Not so.

  You strike me like a harp, play on me like a flute – and now

  You have the nerve to claim that I have had enough of you?

  Not so.

  What heavy sorrows weigh me down, and crush my abject soul –

  Could anything be harder than your absence to live through?

  Not so.

  Your eyes are languorous and rob my wakeful eyes of sleep,

  Are any curls as wild as yours, as lovely and untrue?

  Not so.

  You say my heart has not been hurt by your disdain. It has.

  Has any lover suffered love’s despair as I do now for you?

  Not so.

  You have so many slaves, all finer than I am, I know –

  But can you point to one more wretched in your retinue?

  Not so.

  HOW LONG WILL HEAVEN’S HEARTLESS TYRANNY

  Which keeps both rich and poor in agony

  Go on? The dreadful happenings of these times

  Have torn up by the roots Hope’s noble tree,

  And in the garden of the world you’d say

  They’ve stripped the leaves as far as one can see.

  That cypress which was once the cynosure

  Of souls, they’ve toppled ignominiously;

  I cry to heaven above, again I cry,

  How long will this injustice fall on me?

  What can I tell my grieving heart that won’t

  Let dearest friends assuage its misery?

  You’d say heaven’s stuffed its ears with scraps of cotton

  Simply to show that it’s ignoring me!

  LAST NIGHT I DREAMED I SAW WITH FORTUNE’S EYES

  The garden of my hopes revive its reign;

  Its flowers all opened, and my foes departed,

  And all my friends sat with me once again.

  My moon of hope was full (although in truth

  The darkness of these skies has made her wane);

  I thanked God for my fortune, and I said,

  “My heart’s been granted all she’d hoped to gain.”

  THE ROSES HAVE ALL GONE; “GOODBYE,” WE SAY; WE MUST;

  And I shall leave the busy world one day; I must.

  My little room, my books, my love, my sips of wine –

  All these are dear to me; they’ll pass away; they must.

  HERE, IN THE CORNER OF A RUINED SCHOOL

  (More ruined even than my heart), I wait

  While men declare that there’s no goodness in me.

  I sit alone, and brood upon my fate,

  And hear their words, like salt rubbed in my wounds,

  And tell myself I must accept my state:

  I don’t want wealth, and I don’t envy them

  The ostentatious splendor of the great.

  What do they want from me, though, since I’ve nothing?

  Now that I’m destitute, and desolate?

  I SWORE I’D NEVER LOOK AT HIM AGAIN,

  I’d be a Sufi, deaf to sin’s temptations;

  I saw my nature wouldn’t stand for it –

  From now on I renounce renunciations.

  YOU WANDERED THROUGH MY GARDEN, NAKED AND
ALONE

  (The roses blenched to see their beauty overthrown).

  My cheeky love, your body is the Fount of Youth

  (But in your silver breast your heart is like a stone).

  WHEREVER MY EYES LOOK I SEE YOUR IMAGE THERE,

  And fears of your departure fill me with despair:

  Your face before me tells me to be patient – but

  Here is my heart, and – tell me – where is patience? Where?

  LAST NIGHT, MY LOVE, MY LIFE, YOU LAY WITH ME,

  I grasped your pretty chin, I fondled it,

  And then I bit, and bit, your sweet lips till

  I woke…It was my fingertip I bit.

  MY LOVE’S AN ACHE NO OINTMENTS CAN ALLAY NOW;

  My soul’s on fire – how long you’ve been away now!

  I said, “I will be patient while he’s gone.”

  (But that’s impossible…it’s one whole day now…)

  I TOLD MY HEART, “I CAN’T ENDURE THIS TYRANNY!

  He’s nothing, no one! What’s this bully’s love to me?”

  My little heart, you’re like a boundless sea, it seems;

  And common sense? A splinter somewhere on that sea.

  MY HEART, SIT DOWN, WELCOME LOVE’S PAIN,

  and make the best of it:

  The rose is gone, the thorns remain,

  so make the best of it.

  My heart said, “No! I can’t endure

  this sadness any longer…”

  I said, “You’ve no choice – don’t complain,

  just make the best of it.”

  I FEEL SO HEART-SICK. SHOULD MY DOCTOR HEAR,

  He’ll sigh and groan and want to interfere:

  Come on now dearest, heal me, you know how

  To make my doctor’s headache disappear.

  YOUR FACE’S ABSENCE LEAVES MINE WAXY-WHITE,

  like a candle;

  How long will my tears drip, blearing my sight,

  like a candle?

  You sleep, and on your pillow I lie broken,

  self-consumed,

  Awake and weeping till the morning light,

  like a candle.

  I’M LIKE THE MOTH THAT FLUTTERS ROUND A LIGHT,

  Risking my soul for love and love’s delight:

  In love with you I’m like the candle too,

  Dissolving, burning, weeping, through the night.

  ALWAYS, WHATEVER ELSE YOU DO, MY HEART,

  Try to be kind, try to be true, my heart:

  And if he’s faithless, all may yet be well –

  Who knows what he might do? Not you, my heart.

  MY HEART, IF YOU HAVE WORDS YOU NEED TO SAY,

  Be warned! Keep would-be confidants away.

  Seek help from no one here: five times a day

  The entrance to His court stands open. Pray.

  WHAT HAS THIS LIFE WE LONG FOR GIVEN ME? TELL ME.

  Who looks on me with any sympathy? Tell me.

  With all one’s goods and chattels gone, without a home,

  How long can one survive in penury? Tell me.

  WHEN SOMEONE IS IMPRISONED FOR A WHILE

  Men ask about his fate, and want to know his crimes;

  If someone accidentally says my name,

  Fear makes him beg to be excused, a thousand times.

  A PICNIC AT THE DESERT’S EDGE, WITH WITTY FRIENDS,

  And tambourines, and harps, and lutes, is very sweet.

  And if my lover, for a moment, should drop by,

  I’ll grill his liver with my body’s fiery heat.

  TO SEE THE BLOSSOM OF HIS FACE, MY HEART – HOW SWEET;

  To nibble kisses from his lips, my heart – how sweet;

  To snatch a moment’s happiness, exchanged for so much sorrow –

  To gain my soul, and sacrifice my heart – how sweet.

  A HAPPY HEART’S THE PLACE FOR PLANS AND PIETY,

  And wealth’s a fine foundation for sobriety:

  A weak and wasted arm can’t wield a warrior’s sword,

  A broken heart can’t act with cold propriety.

  IF I CAN’T EVEN GET BEYOND YOUR DOOR,

  that’s hard for me –

  What heart-felt heavy burden could weigh more?

  that’s hard for me.

  If you’ll be kind and patient with me, that’s

  not hard for me;

  If, when you think of me, you’re not so sure –

  that’s hard for me.

  PITY THE WRETCH, FORCED FROM HER NATIVE LAND,

  With no one close, to hear or understand –

  World-weary, heart-sick, unprovided for,

  Alone, and at her enemies’ command.

  SHALL I COMPLAIN OF ABSENCE? OF MY HEART? OR OF THE SKIES?

  Or that I lack the patient strength to suffer and be wise?

  The heavens’ harshness means my soul is ready to depart…

  (That harshness, and my fawning friends’ hypocrisy and lies).

  LAUGHING, THE ROSE SAID TO THE NIGHTINGALE ONE DAY,

  “How long will you keep up this constant racket, pray?

  I’m leaving here, I’ll pack and I’ll be on my way…”

  Now don’t you get ideas from what these roses say!

  MY ENEMIES’ GLIB LIES ARE NEVER DONE –

  How long will their cruel calumnies go on?

  I’m like the wretched wolf (who’d done no harm)

  Accused of killing Joseph, Jacob’s son.

  SHIRAZ WHEN SPRING IS HERE – WHAT PLEASURE EQUALS THIS?

  With streams to sit by, wine to drink, and lips to kiss,

  With mingled sounds of drums and lutes and harps and flutes;

  Then, with a nice young lover near, Shiraz is bliss.

  Obayd-e Zakani

  In arts and sciences, don’t try to be a master,

  Unless you want to be, like me, a big disaster;

  To catch the eye of princes, just suck up to them,

  Sing silly songs, fuck boys – and you’ll get on much faster.

  I’VE SET OUT FROM SHIRAZ, I’VE PUT

  my fearful soul in danger;

  I have no choice, I bleed for grief,

  I’ve made myself a stranger;

  I wave my arms about, I’m soaked

  in mud from head to toe,

  And what’s my profit from all this?

  That’s what I’d like to know!

  I’m shrieking like a nightingale,

  and then I’m like the rose

  He wildly sings to as it’s opening,

  tearing off my clothes;

  And if I quit my town it means

  I’m done for; look, if I

  Should even venture from my street,

  I know I’m sure to die.

  Don’t ask about my journey, friends,

  just think of me as gone,

  Because I haven’t got a clue

  about what’s going on.

  Out of Shiraz, I’m hopeless, helpless,

  I just pine and fret;

  Over my shoulder I look back,

  distracted by regret.

  I haven’t strength to hold my reins,

  and really there’s no knowing

  What these poor feet are up to,

  or where it is we’re going.

  I’m so fed up, my father’s words,

  my friends’ commiseration

  Can’t do a single thing today

  to help the situation.

  But O Obayd, a trip like this

  is not the one for me –

  It’s Fate that drags me in its chains,

  my fate, my destiny!

  MY HURT HEART’S TALES, MY NIGHTS’ TRAVAILS, AH, WHERE

  Can I recount the forms of my despair?

  I’ve no companion now to sit with, no

  Kind friend to hear the secrets I could share,

  And I’m more wretched that my wretchedness

  Finds no one who might hear me out or care.

  But happiness’s dawn m
ust come, for all

  The nights of misery I’ve had to bear.

  The world ignores the indigent: O God,

  Now men reject me, show me You’re still there;

  O Comforter of all the wretched, help

  Obayd’s unhappy heart, and heed his prayer.

  THE BREEZE OF MOSALLA, AND ROKNABAD’s

  clear stream will take

  The memory of a stranger’s home away,

  for this town’s sake.

  Joy to this heart-delighting place, joy, peace,

  prosperity –

  And may its excellence endure for all

  eternity!

  Turn where you will here, there are nightingales’

  sweet trills and sighs,

  In every meadow you pass by you’ll see

  tall box-trees rise.

  Look where you will, and girls as lovely as

  Shirin are there,

  Go where you will, and lovers like Farhad

  are everywhere.

  My heart’s in love with this bewitching town –

  whose lovely site

  Fills all my heart with happiness, my mind

  with sheer delight.

  My mind remembers my home-town, but I

  cannot break free

  Of this Shiraz’s ringlets – her black locks

  have captured me!

  Help! Save me from her hyacinthine curls,

  her heathen ways,

  Her bold narcissus eyes, their magically

  deceitful gaze!

  But these are spoils, consider them as spoils –

  take what you can;

  Frail is our body and feeble, and brief