Gyric poems of Ha'fez

[Asalbanoo]

The bright moon reflects your radiant face
Your snowcapped cheekbones supply water of grace
My heavy heart desires an audience with your face
Come forward or must return, your command I will embrace.
Nobody for good measures girded your fields
Such trades no one in their right mind would chase.
Our dormant fate will never awake, unless
You wash its face and shout brace, brace!
Send a bouquet of your face with morning breeze
Perhaps inhaling your scent, your fields we envision & trace.
May you live fulfilled and long, O wine-bearer of this feast
Though our cup was never filled from your jug or your vase.
My heart is reckless, please, let Beloved know
Beware my friend, my soul your soul replace.
O God, when will my fate and desires hand in hand
Bring me to my Beloved hair, in one place?
Step above the ground, when you decide to pass us by
On this path lie bloody, the martyrs of human race.
Hafiz says a prayer, listen, and say amen
May your sweet wine daily pour upon my lips and my face.
O breeze tell us about the inhabitants of city of Yazd
May the heads of unworthy roll as a ball in your polo race.
Though we are far from friends, kinship is near
We praise your goodness and majestic mace.
O Majesty, may we be touched by your grace
I kiss and touch the ground that is your base.

[Asalbanoo]

When you hear the lovers’ words, think them not a mistake
You don’t recognize these words, the error must be your take.
The here and hereafter cannot tame my spirit and soul
Praise God for all the intrigue in my mind that is at stake.
I know not who resides within my heart
Though I am silent, he must shake and quake.
My heart went through the veil, play a song
Hark, my fate, this music I must make.
I paid no heed, worldly affairs I forsake
It is for your beauty, beauty of the world I partake.
My heart is on fire, I am restless and awake
To the tavern to cure my hundred day headache.
My bleeding heart has left its mark in the temple
You have every right to wash my body in a wine lake.
In the abode of the Magi, I am welcome because
The fire that never dies, in my heart is awake.
What was the song the minstrel played?
My life is gone, but breathing, I still fake!
Within me last night, the voice of your love did break
Hafiz’s breast still quivers and shakes for your sake.

[Asalbanoo]

Disheveled hair, sweaty, smiling, drunken, and
With a torn shirt, singing, the jug in hand
Narcissus loudly laments, on his lips, alas, alas!
Last night at midnight, came and sat right by my bed-stand
Brought his head next to my ears, with a sad song
Said, O my old lover, you are still in dreamland
The lover who drinks this nocturnal brew
Infidel, if not worships the wine's command
Go away O hermit, fault not the drunk
Our Divine gift from the day that God made sea and land
Whatever He poured for us in our cup, we just drank
If it was a cheap wine or heavenly brand
The smile on the cup's face and Beloved's hair strand
Break many who may repent, just as Hafiz falsely planned.

[Asalbanoo]

When God designed your features and joined your brows
Paved my way, then trapped me with your gestures & bows
The spruce and I, both rooted to the ground
Fate, like a fine cloth belt, its bind endows.
United the knots of my doing and of the budding heart
The fragrant breeze, when to you it made its vows.
Fate convinced me to be enslaved to thee
Yet nothing moves unless your will allows.
Like an umbilical cord, don't wrap around my heart
It is your flowing lock of hair that I espouse.
You were the desire of another, O breeze of union,
Alas, my heart's hope and fire you douse.
I said because of your infliction I shall leave my house
Smilingly said go ahead Hafiz, with chained hooves and paws.

[Asalbanoo]

The hermit has no need to watch the stage
Since Beloved is at home, no need for pilgrimage.
O soul you have a pact with the Divine,
Then ask how should I my life manage?
O King of goodness, I swear that I’m on fire
Then ask how this beggar should I manage?
I am the master of demands, yet my tongue is still
In your compassion to ask is an outrage.
No need to plot, if our blood you demand,
Our body is yours to take at any age.
Essence of the Beloved is the Holy Grail,
In expressing our needs, we need not engage.
I put up with the hardships of the sea
No need for the sea, once I earned my pearly wage.
No need to deal with fake prophets because
When friends are here, false claims disparage.
O begging lover, when Beloved’s life giving lips
Give their dutiful gifts, begging discourage.
Hafiz desist, for art self-radiates
Needless debate with fake artist and false sage.

[Asalbanoo]

Keep to your own affairs, why do you fault me?
My heart has fallen in love, what has befallen thee?
In the center of he, whom God made from nothing
There is a subtle point that no creature can see.
Until His lips fulfill my lips like a reed
From all the worldly advice I must flee.
The beggar of your home, of the eight heavens has no need
The prisoner of your love, from both worlds is thus free.
Though my drunkenness has brought forth my ruin
My essence is flourished by paying that ruinous fee.
O heart for the pain and injustice of love do not plead
For this is your lot from the justice of eternity.
Hafiz don’t help magic and fantasy further breed
The world is filled with such, from sea to sea.

[Asalbanoo]

Though the wine is joyous, and the wind, flowers sorts
Harp music and scent of wine, the officer reports.
If you face an adversary and a jug of wine
Choose the wine because, fate cheats and extorts.
Up your ragged, patched sleeves, hide & keep your cup
Like this flask of wine, fate too bleeds and distorts.
With my teary eyes, I cleanse my robe with wine
Self-restraint and piety is what everyone exhorts.
Seek not your joy in the turn of the firmaments
Even my filtered clear red fluid, dregs sports.
This earth and sky is no more than a bleeding sieve
That sifts and sorts kingly crowns and courts.
Hafiz, your poems invaded Fars and Iraqi ports
It is now the turn of Baghdad and Tabrizi forts.

[Asalbanoo]

I long to open up my heart
For my heart do my part.
My story was yesterday’s news
From rivals cannot keep apart.
On this holy night stay with me
Till the morning, do not depart.
On a night so dark as this,
My course, how can I chart?
O breath of life, help me tonight
That in the morn I make a start.
In my love for you, I will
My self and ego thwart.
Like Hafiz, being love smart;
I long to master that art.

[Asalbanoo]

Amidst flowers, wine in hand, my lover I embrace
King of the world is my slave on such a day in such a place.
Bring no candles to this, our festive feast, tonight
Full moon is pale beside the light of my lover's face.
Drinking of wine, our creed has sanctified
Yet without you, drinking wine is disgrace.
My ears only hear the song of the harp and the reed
My eyes see your ruby lips, and the cup chase.
Keep perfumes away from our feast tonight
The fragrance of your hair, our feast will grace.
Speak not to me of sweetness of candy and sugar;
Since my lips, sweetness of your lips, did once trace.
Your treasures are hidden in the ruins of my heart
And my path to the tavern has now become sacred space.
Speak not of disgrace; that's my fame and my base
And fame and high place, I despise and debase.
Drunk and disconcerted and demented and deceived
Show me one who's not, within our town and our race.
Fault not the pious one, because he, also, like us,
Is seeking love and grace, in his own way, at his own pace.
Hafiz, wine in hand, always your lover embrace
'Cause flowers and joy fill this festive time and space.

[Asalbanoo]

The corner of the tavern is my altar, where I pray
At dawn, the mantra of the Old Magi, I say.
Fear not if the harp plays not at sun's morning ascent
My morning cry of repentance is the music I play.
Thank God, free from beggars and kings, away, I stay;
Homage, to the beggar at the door of the Beloved, I pay.
For Thee, in the mosque and the tavern, my time, I spent;
By God, from this intent, I never ran nor walked astray.
Only, Angel of Death's blade can uproot my tent
Running from love and grace has never been my way.
From the time that I made my search for Thee my intent
I lean upon the throne on which the sun may lay.
Not your fault was the sins that were put into your clay
Nonetheless accept them, Hafiz, and good taste display.