I am a Bird from Paradise
c. 1315–1390
a p enguin since 2013
Hafez
I am a Bird from Paradise
Translated by Dick Davis
Hafez
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Faces of Love: Hafez and the Poets of Shiraz first published in the United States of America by Mage Publishers 2012
Published in Penguin Classics 2013
This selection published in Penguin Classics 2025 001
Copyright © Mage Publishers, 2012
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ISBN : 978–0–241–74725–4
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I
am a Bird from Paradise
My friend, hold back your heart from enemies, Drink shining wine with handsome friends like these; With art’s initiates undo your collar –Stay buttoned up with ignoramuses.
* However old, incapable, And heart-sick I may be, The moment I recall your face My youth’s restored to me;
Thanks be to God that all I sought From Him I have received, That my exertions brought to me The fortune I’ve achieved.
Rejoice, young sapling, in your glory, For in your shadow there I am the nightingale whose songs Are heard now everywhere.
To me, at first, the heights and depths Of Being were unknown, But schooled within my longing for you How well informed I’ve grown!
Fate drags me to the wine-shop’s door –And though I turn and twist, That’s where I always finish up; It’s useless to resist.
It’s not that I am old in months And years; if truth be told The friend I love’s untrue to me –
It’s this that makes me old.
Within my heart, the door of meaning Opened the day I sought Our ancient Zoroastrian out And entered in his court.
On Glory’s highway, and upon Good Fortune’s throne, I raise The wine-cup, and receive my friends’ Warm welcome and their praise!
And from that moment that your glance First troubled me, I’m sure I’ve been immune to all the troubles The last days have in store.
Last night God’s kindness brought good news –‘Hafez, I guarantee That all your sins will be forgiven; Come back, return to Me!’
Last night she brought me wine, and sat beside my pillow; Her hair hung loose, her dress was torn, her face perspired –
She smiled and sang of love, with mischief in her eyes,
And whispering in my ear, she drunkenly inquired:
‘My ancient lover, can it be that you’re asleep?
The true initiate, when offered wine at night, Would be a heretic of love if he refused To take the draught he’s given, and drink it with delight.’
And as for you, you hypocrites, don’t cavil at Lovers who drain life to the lees, since we were given This nature when the world began, and we must drink
The wine that’s poured for us, whether from earth or heaven.
So take the laughing wine cup, raise it in your hand, Caress your lover’s curls, and say Hafez has spoken; How many vows of abstinence the world has seen So fervently affirmed, and – like Hafez’s – broken.
* A flower, without a friend’s face there, I think that isn’t good And springtime, if there isn’t wine to drink, that isn’t good
A stroll through gardens, or a wooded place, Without a pretty tulip-blushing face that isn’t good
A cypress swaying, and a rose unfolding, Without a nightingale’s melodious scolding that isn’t good
A sweet-lipped, sexy lover near, if this is To be with no embraces and no kisses that isn’t good
Wine in a garden can be sweet, but when We have no friend to talk and listen, then that isn’t good
And anything the mind dreams, in the end, Unless it is the features of our friend, that isn’t good
The soul’s a useless coin, Hafez – not worth Your casting, as an offering, on the earth that isn’t good
*
I see no love in anyone, Where, then, have all the lovers gone? And when did all our friendship end, And what’s become of every friend?
Life’s water’s muddied now, and where Is Khezr to guide us from despair? The rose has lost its coloring, What’s happened to the breeze of spring?
A hundred thousand flowers appear But no birds sing for them to hear –Thousands of nightingales are dumb: Where are they now? Why don’t they come?
For years no rubies have been found In stony mines deep underground; When will the sun shine forth again? Where are the clouds brimful of rain? Who thinks of drinking now? No one. Where have the roistering drinkers gone? This was a town of lovers once, Of kindness and benevolence,
And when did kindness end? What brought The sweetness of our town to naught?
The ball of generosity
Lies on the field for all to see –
No rider comes to strike it; where Is everyone who should be there?
Silence, Hafez, since no one knows The secret ways that heaven goes;
Who is it that you’re asking how The heavens are revolving now?