Friday, July 11, 2014

Ḥāfiẓ, Ghazal 46, ll. 1-7

A rose on the breast, wine at hand,
   a Beloved to my heart’s desire;
On a day such as this the Sultan
   of the world is but a slave to me.
Bring no candle to tonight’s gathering,
   for in this assembly of ours
   the Beloved’s face is a full moon!
Though wine is licit in our creed,
   it is illicit without Your face,
   O Cypress whose arms are roses!
I am all ears for the reed’s song,
   all ears for the harp’s melody.
I am all eyes for Your ruby lips,
   all eyes for the passing of the cup!
Spread no perfume in our assembly
   for each moment brings us
   the scent of the Beloved’s curls.
Speak not of the flavor of candy
   and sugar, for to me nothing
   tastes sweeter than Your lips.
Since the treasure of Your sorrow
   came to reside in my ruined heart,
I have always been found here,
   sitting in this tavern’s dusty corner.

[my translation]