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On Being a Poet

When Hafiz
sang the poetry in his heart
in the beautiful gardens of Shiraz

they said his voice was like
pouring light into a cup
when the soul is thirsty

so no-one wrote it down; for
the page does not always sing;
better now, to seek out an old woman
who had heard Hafiz when she was young,
ask her to speak those verses
as she remembered them

or even to ask her grandchild
who remembered the light
of his voice in her grandmother’s eyes.

Because Hafiz

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poem by Michael Shepherd
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Slaves of Thy Shining Eyes

SLAVES of thy shining eyes are even those
That diadems of might and empire bear;
Drunk with the wine that from thy red lip flows,
Are they that e'en the grape's delight forswear.
Drift, like the wind across a violet bed,
Before thy many lovers, weeping low,
And clad like violets in blue robes of woe,
Who feel thy wind-blown hair and bow the head.

Thy messenger the breath of dawn, and mine
A stream of tears, since lover and beloved
Keep not their secret; through my verses shine,
Though other lays my flower's grace have proved
And countless nightingales have sung thy praise.
When veiled beneath thy curls thou passest, see,
To right and leftward those that welcome thee
Have bartered peace and rest on thee to gaze!

But thou that knowest God by heart, away!
Wine-drunk, love-drunk, we inherit Paradise,

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poem by Shams al-Din Hafiz
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Quatrains

S. H.

With beams December planets dart
His cold eye truth and conduct scanned,
July was in his sunny heart,
October in his liberal hand.

A. H.

High was her heart, and yet was well inclined,
Her manners made of bounty well refined;
Far capitals, and marble courts, her eye still seemed to see,
Minstrels, and kings, and high-born dames, and of the best that be.

'SUUM CUIQUE.'

Wilt thou seal up the avenues of ill?
Pay every debt, as if God wrote the bill.

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poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson
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Rubaiyat 24

At dawn your eyes from Jupiter learn
O God, may fantasies of my mind burn.
The ear adorned with that elegant ring
Gems of Hafiz’s poems may earn.

poem by Shams al-Din Hafiz
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Rubaiyat 03

I said, your lips said, your lips we revive;
I said, your mouth said, sweetness we derive;
I said your words, he said, Hafiz said;
May all sweet lips be joyous and alive.

poem by Shams al-Din Hafiz
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To Hafiz

THOUGH gifts like thine the fates gave not to me,
One thing, O Hafiz, we both hold in fee—
Nay, it holds us; for when the June wind blows
We both are slaves and lovers to the rose.
In vain the pale Circassian lily shows
Her face at her green lattice, and in vain
The violet beckons, with unveilëd face—
The bosom’s white, the lip’s light purple stain,
These touch our liking, yet no passion stir.
But when the rose comes, Hafiz—in that place
Where she stands smiling, we kneel down to her!

poem by Thomas Bailey Aldrich
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Beauty of Nature

I went to the garden and drank some ale
And heard the wailing of the nightingale

Blooming there also was a beautiful rose
But, unlike the birds, it had no woes

It looked so happy, so vigorous, so proud
Standing alone and above the crowd.

The narcissus also was looking very grand,
Had a tulip in waiting with a cup in hand

The iris there also lashing its tongue
Scolding them all, whether old or young,

And holding a flask was there a lass
Pouring red wine in everyone's glass

And there was Hafiz singing his song
Telling us to come and sing along.

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poem by Lawrence Hiung
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My body is the temple of His love

(after Hafiz)

My body is the temple of His love,
my heart, my mind even though my own
is the sanctuary that must become holy for Him,
my life is dedicated to my Lord
and everything that I have known
while I have been adventuring,
though at times it darkens my being,
my life with sin,
His spirit dwells within
and in Him I am clean.

His life is pure like the Lily
growing in the swamp,
is bright with pure light
like the sun that overcomes the darkest night
and in Him my shattered pieces are whole,
He is the essence of my soul.

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poem by Gert Strydom
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From the Persian of Hafiz II

Of Paradise, O hermit wise,
Let us renounce the thought.
Of old therein our names of sin
Allah recorded not.

Who dear to God on earthly sod
No corn-grain plants,
The same is glad that life is had,
Though corn he wants.

Thy mind the mosque and cool kiosk,
Spare fast, and orisons;
Mine me allows the drink-house,
And sweet chase of the nuns.

O just fakeer, with brow austere,
Forbid me not the vine;
On the first day, poor Hafiz clay
Was kneaded up with wine.

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poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson
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Ghazal 02

Where is sensible action, & my insanity whence?
See the difference, it is from where to whence.
From the church & hypocritical vestments, I take offence
Where is the abode of the Magi, & sweet wine whence?
For dervishes, piety and sensibility make no sense
Where is sermon and hymn, & the violin's music whence.
Upon seeing our friend, our foes put up their defense
Where is a dead lantern, & the candle of the sun whence?
My eye-liner is the dust of your door and fence
Where shall I go, tell me, you command me whence?
Take your focus from your chin to the trap on the path hence,
Where to O heart, in such hurry you go whence?
May his memory of union be happy and intense
Where are your amorous gestures, & your reproach whence?
Make not restlessness & insomnia, Hafiz's sentence
What is rest, which is patience, and sleep whence?

© Shahriar Shahriari
Los Angeles, Ca
Februaru 1, 2000

poem by Shams al-Din Hafiz
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